Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul
by Golden-Flute
Summary: Dumbledore's gone and Harry must destroy the last Horcruxes on his own. His friends have come with him, but he is more alone now than ever before. Voldemort has the advantage and Harry must change that before they meet for a final time. On Hiatus.
1. A Good Word

**Title: **Harry Potter and the Staff of Merlin

**Author: **Legolas-gurl88

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling is the brains of the operation… I'm merely a huge fan.

**Author Note (_EVERYONE PLEASE READ!): _**For those who have found this story, I hope you enjoy it. Just as a note, as you'll find out, the first chapter is on Scrimgeour and the second chapter is on Draco Malfoy. The rest of the chapters, however, are **_ALL_** Harry. If you're too bored with Scrimgeour and Malfoy, **you can skip the first two chapters**, because you don't _need_ to read them to understand the whole plot, but you might get confused at some small areas, so it's recommended that you do. But then again, things might come as more of a surprise if you don't read the first two chapters. It's totally up to you, I'm just giving a warning.

OoOoOoO

**1. A Good Word**

It was nearly eleven o'clock in the evening and Rufus Scrimgeour remained pacing in his office. Most of the Ministry employees had long since gone home for hot meals while very few others continued to work, munching on pumpkin pasties and other sweets to ease their growling stomachs. Scrimgeour's cold hands were clasped behind his back as he continued to stride nervously around the room, staring at the ugly lime-green carpet that had not been replaced since Fudge left office. His wire-rimmed glasses reflected the flames from the nearly-snuffed candles, whose light spread dully across the room. Upon the Minister's normally neat desk lay an assortment of papers-- mostly letters and memos, but also some newspaper clippings. The absence of the clicking sounds coming from his secretary's magical typewriter cast an eerie silence upon the vicinity.

Deciding it was no good to limp in circles anymore, Scrimgeour went to his desk and threw his bulk into the large wooden chair behind it. Picking up that day's newspaper, he shuffled impatiently through it to find a story he might have missed when skimming it earlier that day. Finally, he found a story about a witch in Derby named Padwala Mudsinger who claimed to have seen an image of the Dark Lord in her rabbit stew. Scrimgeour began to read the article.

'_-- Mudsinger immediately contacted two Seers, Kady Uphorn and Wally Yotes to confirm the bad omen. The Seers told her that it was a figment of her imagination and that there was no way of reading the future in rabbit stew. Yotes recommended Mudsinger to speak with a therapist. Mudsinger's recent paranoia of Dark Magic caused her to go insane as she began seeing the Dark Lord and the Dark Mark in everyday objects, such as tables, bed sheets and a piece of toast. She has been confined to a room in St. Mungo's until the Healers believe her well enough to cope in the world alone once more. Objects in question have been thoroughly examined by the recently founded Department of Dark Magic and were found to be perfectly normal.'_

Scrimgeour laughed shortly. What a story. Ever since the death of Dumbledore, the whole of the Wizarding Worlds seemed to feel as if every day would be it's last. He'd had such a hard time hushing up crazed stories about how certain wizarding families had been seen inviting the Dark Lord to tea.

"These stories should be saved for the _Quibbler_, not a decent newspaper like the _Daily Prophet_." said Scrimgeour one day to the head of the newspaper committee when they tried writing a story about a Common Welsh Green eating several five-year-old witches in a forest.

Scrimgeour began looking though pages and pages of other stories, stopping to read a small article on a recipe for Draught of Safety ('_Guaranteed to block most jinxes, hexes and curses!'_), as well as a small story on Harry Potter ('_The Chosen One's story of what happened the night Albus Dumbledore died._). The Minister laughed deep in his throat. There had been so many stories about this matter on Harry Potter, all of which were extremely bogus. However, since these stories appeared, galleons began rolling in by the barrel from people who were desperate to know The story of Dumbledore's death.

Rubbing his wrists nervously, Scrimgeour's yellowish eyes glanced, in trepidation, at the clock hanging on his wall. Earlier that day, whilst reading a pile of letters from angry parents complaining about lack of security, a rather large owl landed on his desk with a letter clamped in it's beak. The letter had been rather short and now lay atop the pile of papers strewn upon his desk, announcing the time in which someone he'd asked to speak with would come. However, her arrival time had long since passed and Scrimgeour grew worried.

There was a small _pop_ that jerked the Minister out of his harrowing thoughts. He swiveled his great head sharply to see what made the noise. In the middle of the room stood a tall witch. She was a very sharp woman, who, from her appearance, gave Scrimgeour the impression that she was very neat and orderly. Upon the bridge of her nose rested a pair of square glasses, magnifying her very stern eyes. Her lips were pursed to the point of disappearance and her brown hair was tied into a neat bun at the top of her head.

Scrimgeour rose from his chair and limped toward the witch dressed in emerald-green robes and kissed her hand politely.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall, how wonderful to finally meet you." he said, splitting a wide smile. McGonagall lifted her chin a little as if evaluating the man in front of her.

"Minister," she exchanged the greeting finally, then took a few steps forward.

"I thank you for coming on such short notice, Minerva--"

"That's 'Professor', Minister." said McGonagall stiffly. Scrimgeour chuckled slightly and pulled out his wand.

"My apologies, Professor. Now, why don't we sit down?" He flicked his wand a the empty floor in front of them and two chairs and a table appeared. McGonagall hesitated a moment, then moved to the closest chair and sat down.

"Tea?" Scrimgeour said, and a tray with a teapot and two teacups appeared.

"Water will do, Minister." said McGonagall.

"Of course, Minerva-- oh-- _Professor_." said Scrimgeour, pointing to one of the teacups. "_Aguamenti_." The teacup instantly filled with water and McGonagall pulled it close to her, but didn't drink.

"So, how've you been, Professor?" Scrimgeour said lightly, resting his chin on his hand. McGonagall, eyed him cagily.

"I am well, Minister," she said in cold tones, "but I am quite sure you didn't invite me to the Ministry this late at night to ask about my wellbeing?"

The smile that had been fixed on Scrimgeour's face fell at these words and he played with his short beard in thought, his bristly eyebrows knitting together.

"No… no, of course not-- I-- well--" he stammered, "I mean… I _am _glad I find you well, of course… but I wanted to--" he paused and pulled himself together, sitting a little straighter in his chair. He cleared his throat, "Professor, I wondered if I may speak with you about a few matters of importance?"

"Obviously," snapped McGonagall, "I am here, aren't I? I assure you, if I did not want to know what you wanted, I would most certainly not be here."

"Well, then," said Scrimgeour, "I wanted to talk to you about two things--"

"Then get on with it. I am rather tired." said McGonagall. Scrimgeour paused for a fraction of a second, then continued on with what he'd been rehearsing to ask all day.

"You must know, Minerva," he said mechanically, "that I, too, am grieved about what happened to Dumbledore last June."

"That is kind to say," said McGonagall in a voice slightly more benign than the one she had adopted earlier. Scrimgeour felt braver now that McGonagall had calmed down a bit. Once again, he cleared his throat.

"However, I have reason to believe that he passed important information to Harry Potter during little meetings they had during the last school year. Certain things that may explicitly explain this prophecy about Mr. Potter and You-Know-Who."

"And?" said McGonagall, eyeing Scrimgeour beadily once more and the Minister drew back slightly.

"I have already tried to get Mr. Potter to tell me what Dumbledore told him, but he refused me answers. I would find it _most helpful _if you could tell me anything you know… anything Dumbledore might have told _you_."

"That information was strictly between Dumbledore and Potter."

"My good woman!" said Scrimgeour exasperatedly. "This information might help us on the road to defeating You-Know-Who for good!"

"With respect, Minister," said McGonagall slowly as if she were trying to contain her anger, "I must say that Dumbledore told me nothing of what went on between him and Potter. And again… with--my--_apologies_… even if Dumbledore told me something-- anything-- I would not tell you."

"Why ever not?" asked Scrimgeour, outraged. McGonagall's glasses flashed angrily.

"I value Dumbledore's trust, even when he is no longer here to hold me to my word," she said quietly.

"So you _do_ know something. You're _hiding _it from me!" said Scrimgeour almost childishly, briefly forgetting his firm position as Minister.

"I know nothing, as I told you, and I most certainly am not hiding so much as a word." said McGonagall.

"Then tell me what Dumbledore and Mr. Potter did the night Dumbledore died. Why was he not there to stop those Death Eaters?"

"I cannot say." said McGonagall. Then, she grabbed her teacup and began drinking the water as if to shake of any more questions the Minister had. Once she finished, she set the cup down, her face slightly red and said to Scrimgeour in a more calmed voice. "You wished to ask me one more question, Minister?"

"Yes-- er, yes." he answered, taking up his own teacup and drinking from it, small trickles of tea dripping down his face. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he continued to speak.

"How-- how's the rebuilding of Hogwarts coming?" he said suddenly.

"Rather well. It won't be finished in time to open in September, however."

"So, you're still planning to reopen?"

"Yes."

"Even after all that happened there? Do you really think it _proper_ to send children back to Hogwarts? It's not safe there."

"Then name one place where the children _will _be safe, Minister, I beg you." said McGonagall. She smiled cheekily as Scrimgeour open and closed his mouth several times like a fish.

"Very well! So they might not be safe anywhere! But do you really think that parents would want their children to go to Hogwarts?"

"If the students are willing to come back and learn, Minister," said McGonagall, "I see no reason to stop them from learning."

"Yes… of course… well…" said Scrimgeour.

"And it would be Dumbledore's wishes to continue on at Hogwarts without him. He once told me; 'Do not hesitate to show courage by continuing with your life as normally as possible when facing danger. It will irritate your enemies easier than when you are _trying_ to annoy them.'"

"How touching." said Scrimgeour as McGonagall wiped a sudden tear from her eye. "But we must finish our business, Minerva."

"Then get on with it."

"Obviously, Dumbledore appointed you to be Headmistress should he die."

"Obviously." sniffed McGonagall haughtily.

"Yes." said Scrimgeour hastily. "However, given the recent --er-- circumstances in the wizarding world, I thought-- and seeing as how you're going to be reopening Hogwarts-- that the school should be placed in the care of someone more… experienced in administrative matters, shall we say."

McGonagall's nostrils flared and her gray eyes grew so wide that they bulged in fury. Then, she bellowed, "I have _never_, in all my years, been so insulted! More _experienced in administrative matters_? Do you think me some useless Pygmy Puff, incapable of knowing what is good or bad for my students?"

"I-- no, no!" Scrimgeour tried to shout over McGonagall.

"Dumbledore _appointed _me his successor if should he die! Ministry rules and regulations allowed him to do so. Therefore, you do not have the authority to tell me what I cannot do! Good day to you, Minister!" When she stopped yelling, she turned and rushed to the door.

"Wait!" the Minister yelled commandingly as McGonagall grabbed the doorknob. The Headmistress paused, then twirled around, her emerald robes swishing about her. Scrimgeour swallowed loudly, then spoke in a voice of forced calm, "I apologize. I did not mean to insult you. Please-- sit down so we can finish our discussion."

"If the discussion is about me handing over the keys to Hogwarts, I will speak no further to you. Dumbledore trusted _me _to care for Hogwarts and it's students, not the Ministry of Magic. I may not be as _experienced_ as you prefer Headmasters and Headmistresses to be, Minister, but I will care for Hogwarts in Dumbledore's stead."

"Minerva," said Scrimgeour, "I _need_ Hogwarts. You hear me, I _need_ it."

"I know your ways, Minister." said McGonagall coldly, unmoving from her place by the door. The air in the room became thick. "You'd do a few good deeds at Hogwarts and make sure everyone puts in a good word about you in return. Do not think me so dim as to not see through this plan of yours."

There was silence in the Minister's room as the two occupants glared at one another. The clock chimed at eleven-thirty, and still, both refused to speak. Neither of them knew really what to say.

"Very well." said Scrimgeour, limping to his desk chair and sitting in it wearily. "I can see you will not be swayed in your decision. Thank you for coming down to see me. I hope you enjoyed the-- er-- water. I also hope that this discussion will not put the Ministry and Hogwarts in bad terms with each other as they have been recently."

"Thank you for inviting me, Minister." said McGonagall, nodding curtly in the direction of Scrimgeour. Then, with a small _pop_, she Dissaparated.

Scrimgeour sighed, but still, the heaviness in his chest would not pass. He suddenly felt weak. Letting the Headmistress leave like that-- it was as if he, an ex-Auror, was afraid of the woman! Scrimgeour then felt disgusted at himself for taking 'no' for an answer so easily. He stared out the small window that showed the pale moon, glowing innocently. It cast a ghostlike glow around the room, illuminating what the dim candles did not. Suddenly, a shadow passed the window, causing Scrimgeour's heart to speed up. Odd-- he was underground. Why would Magical Maintenance have a strange shadow pass his window this late at night? Perhaps they had gone home and decided to show what was really outside for the night? But then who passed his window-- that area of the outdoors was always deserted. No one ever walked that way.

The Auror part of Scrimgeour's brain decided that he should go see what it was and he had half-risen from his chair when the other part of his brain told him to stay put.

_You've already been weak once tonight,_ he told himself, _Don't do it again!_

Reaching his decision, Scrimgeour stood up to full height and Dissaparated from his office. He felt a fraction of a second's worth of pressure rush over his entire body, but then he found himself standing just outside the Ministry of Magic. Cars of Muggles honked on traffic-jammed roads several blocks away and the wind rustled the few trees that were planted along the sidewalk. Scrimgeour ran down the alleyway that he remembered showing through his window and looked around for any sign of movement. There was none.

Feeling a slight sense of foreboding, the Minister pulled his wand from his robe pocket.

"_Lumos_," he whispered and the tip of his wand lit up. The measly flame lit a short path in front of him and he continued to walk, goosebumps making their appearance upon his skin.

There was a sudden low voice from somewhere in front of him and he lost feeling in his entire body. He dropped his wand as his arms snapped at his sides and his legs pulled together of their own accord. For a moment, he stood, suspended, then toppled over onto his back. Unable to speak or scream, he waited in horror for something to happen.

"Minister," came the same low voice and a dark figure appeared from around a nearby building. Scrimgeour moved his eyes to try and see the shape moving closer. His blood ran cold as soon as he saw who it was. A Death Eater stood before him, wearing long black robes and a skull-like mask, hiding his face from view. The Death Eater took up Scrimgeour's wand and raised his own. The Minister could suddenly feel his body again and he struggled to sit up.

"What do you want?" he asked bravely. The Death Eater laughed softly.

"You know us too well, Minister," he said. "I do, of course, need something from you."

"Well, what is it? You can have all the money you want."

"I do not want money, and neither does the Dark Lord." said the Death Eater. "The Dark Lord requests that you release every Death Eater from Azkaban."

"And why would I do that?" Scrimgeour asked angrily. "I would never do that, not even if you offered me a thousand galleons!"

"How about two-thousand galleons?" the Death Eater offered. "The Dark Lord is willing to give something in return if you cooperate. Guaranteed safety for your family, perhaps?"

"I-- no." said Scrimgeour. He was beginning to worry about what would happen if he kept refusing this Death Eater. A nearby owl hooted.

"No?" said the Death Eater. His mouth curled into a smile from under the mask. "The Dark Lord says I am not to return until I have your word--"

"Well, then, you have it." said Scrimgeour, speaking over the Death Eater. "_No_."

"You realize that you risk your safety as well as your family's by saying this. Say yes and I can guarantee their safety."

"You cannot," said Scrimgeour, shifting his weight uncomfortably from his place on the ground. The Death Eater sighed, feigning disappointment, and hiding his glee with difficulty. He raised his wand, pointing it at the Minister.

"_Incendio_!" he shouted and orange flames shot from his wand and ignited Scrimgeour's robes. Scrimgeour yelled in pain as the flames crept over his body, burning his skin and scarring it terribly. Grabbing a fistful of unburned robes, he swatted at the flames, attempting to put them out. The Death Eater watched with enjoyment at the Minister's suffering yells of shock. After what seemed an hour, but was only about sixty seconds, he raised his wand again and said, "_Aguamenti_."

Water sprouted out of the tip of his wand and sprayed the Minister. The flames hissed and flickered. After a few seconds of this, the flames finally died out and Scrimgeour lay in a heap on the ground, breathing heavily. His entire lower body was burned and boiling and his hands were scarred. Finally, he looked up at the Death Eater with fierce, yellow eyes, looking much like a wounded lion, still ready for battle.

"You think you can break me so easily?" he taunted. "You'll have to do better than that!"

"So I see," said the Death Eater, looking as if this challenge would be fun to meet. "Yes, you are very difficult to sway. Nothing a few Unforgivable Curses can't change, however. _Imperio_!"

Scrimgeour forgot pain. He forgot the situation at hand. He forgot everything. Being in total bliss was wonderful. The Minister felt as if he were floating along on a light cloud. It became his greatest desire to curl up and fall asleep there-- the most comfortable place ever. Then, a voice in the back of his head, soothing and tuneful came ringing out.

_Free the Death Eaters… let them go… free them from Azkaban… let them go…_

I will not, said a voice that came from the back of Scrimgeour's head.

_Just let them go… free the Death Eaters…_

Leave me alone. I will not, said the voice again.

_Free the Death Eaters… free them from Azkaban…_

"NO!" shouted Scrimgeour. He threw the curse off and caused the Death Eater to stumble backwards a bit. Proudly, Scrimgeour smiled. "You can't command me with the Imperious Curse. I learned how to overpower it when I was an Auror."

"Tricky to get past you, eh?" said the Death Eater, but he didn't sound aggravated-- on the contrary, he sounded as if he were enjoying the task the harder it became. "Not to worry, Minister, you will tell me before the night is over. Now… let's try a stronger spell, shall we?"

He raised his wand and shouted "_Crucio_!"

Scrimgeour fell back down to the ground and curled himself into a small ball. His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. He jerked and twitched and screamed. Sweat poured down his face as the spell suddenly intensified two-fold and he began kicking his legs, hoping there were some way out of this agony… this pure torture…

As suddenly as the pain had started, it stopped. Scrimgeour lay on his side, curled into a small ball as if trying to protect himself.

"Will you tell me now? Let the Death Eaters out and this pain will become nothing but a foggy memory in your horrible past."

"N--" the Minister gulped. His entire body shook with the effort to speak. The moon was covered by clouds, making it extremely dark in the narrow alleyway. "Nev-- Never."

The Death Eater smiled.

"_Crucio_!"

Scrimgeour's own screams filled his ears, louder than the previous time. Pain bolted through his entire body. It felt as if the fire were back. Old wounds suddenly felt fresh and riddled with pain that would not stop. But it did.

"Surely you wish not to feel that again, Minister?" the Death Eater coaxed as he lifted the curse from the Minister. "All you have to do is free my fellow Death Eaters, and you will feel it no more. I'll even put a nice charm on you for a dreamless sleep. You can forget this all until morning."

"I-- I d-don't w-w-want…" said Scrimgeour feebly from his place on the ground. He didn't need to finish his sentence for the Death Eater to understand.

"Then feel pain. I'll be sure to make it worse than last time, just for you, Minister. _Cruci_--"

"Wait!" Scrimgeour shouted and his lungs felt ready to burst. "I-- I'll d-do it. I g-give you m-my word I-I w-will."

The Death Eater smiled and kneeled next to the weak Minister. Gently, he patted Scrimgeour's shoulder and the man jerked out from underneath him, too sensitive to feel anything but pain when in contact with anything. The moon shifted out from behind the clouds and it's rays hit the Minister. He opened his yellow eyes wearily and gazed into the silver eyes of the Death Eater, who seemed quite happy now that his master got what he wanted.

"You give me your word?" he said gently.

"Y-yes… p-please don't hurt m-me again."

"I will not as long as you do what you promised. And if you don't, I will personally make sure that your family does not survive another day. You swear? You swear under the name of Merlin's beard that you will free the Death Eaters from Azkaban?"

"Yes!" yelled Scrimgeour. "Please leave me!"

"I will," said the Death Eater. He stood up and dropped Scrimgeour's wand several feet away from it's owner, who lay, scarred and in pain on the ground. Just before the Death Eater Dissaparated, he pointed his wand at Scrimgeour once more, putting him in the deep, dreamless sleep he'd promised him. The Minister stopped shivering and his face relaxed.

"I will put in a good word to the Dark Lord about you, Rufus Scrimgeour." said the Death Eater and he turned. With a swish of his long, devilish cloak and a small _pop_, he disappeared from the alleyway, leaving the Minister to sleep outside until dawn.

OoOoOoO

I know Harry's not in this chapter, but bear with me for a little bit. As a warning, the next

chapter is about Draco Malfoy but from then on, it's _all_ about Harry. I just need to get a

few different points out first. Yeah, I'm doing a J.K. Just think of this as what J.K. did in

book six. But chapters three and on are definitely about Harry, I promise. How do I know

this? I've already written the first ten chapters! Just stick with me until then if you're waiting desperately for Harry.

I know there's a lot written down below, but this'll probably be the most you read at the

end of each chapter, so live with me for a little while longer. I'll always have a little

snippet, but I wanted to talk a bit since I haven't been able to since June.

First of all, as you noticed, this story is after the _Half-Blood Prince_ by J.K. Rowling. _This _

_is **NOT **a continuation of my last story '_Harry Potter and the Staff of Merlin'. These are

_my_ thoughts on what happens in the final installment of Harry Potter… after Half-Blood Prince. That means that they probably won't happen in J.K.'s book, so please don't tell

me that so-and-so will never happen. I'll say it again: _These are my thoughts_.

I want to make this point _very_ clear… people make mistakes. This means that this story

might have typos. You can review to me to point out something wrong, but unless it's a

major mistake, I will probably ignore it. I will nevertheless appreciate your willingness to

help.

Reviews are, of course, welcome here with open and eager arms. However, flames are

just about as welcome as Harry is to Snape. Yeah, Snape hates Harry. Due to the new rule

that review responses are banned, if you leave a signed review, I will take it as a sign that

you want a reply. If you don't want a reply, don't sign in. And if you have a problem with

my story, please, just leave… now. If you absolutely _have_ to say something, leave a

message on my e-mail, not the review board.

Also, in my last story, I had problems with people stealing my ideas and using them as their own (a.k.a. plagiarism). There's no guarantee this problem will occur again, but if you do see something that looks oddly like what I wrote, please e-mail me with the pen-name, title and chapter number of the perpetrator and I will greatly appreciate it.

**Also**, if you like to keep up with me, keep an eye on my bio page. I update it every once in a while, especially if there's a particular reason I'm taking so long to post. And, if you

want, please visit my brand new **C2 archives **on _I'm_ _Just Wild About Harry_. If you like

the stories and are interested in **staffing**, feel free to e-mail me and I will consider adding

you to my staff list!

That's all I can think of to say. Hopefully, you're not sleeping and drooling on your

keyboard by now. Like I said, this'll be the most you ever hear from me!

Please review.

May broomsticks be in your dreams!

Luv,

Legolas-gurl88

**Next chapter: **Draco suffers at the hands of Voldemort due to his mistakes. See you

then!


	2. Draco's Second Chance

**Title: **Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul

**Author: **Legolas-gurl88

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling is the brains of the operation… I'm merely a huge fan.

OoOoOoO

**2. Draco's Second Chance**

Morning was near and small bouts of mist shrouded the entire country, but the suns' first rays promised that the day ahead would be fine indeed. Light began to spill over the hills and houses. At just about the same time Rufus Scrimgeour would be waking from his enchanted sleep, a dispute was beginning hundreds of miles away.

The old Riddle House, seemingly unoccupied for years, was sitting atop the hill. The lawn which had once been mowed and trimmed was unkempt and riddled with weeds since the disappearance of the gardener Frank Bryce. But no one in the village had bothered to see if he was in the mansion or not. Most people were even afraid to go inside that old house nowadays, so everyone agreed to the rumored story that, on Frank's deathbed, he had crawled inside the Riddle House to die where he had been important his entire life.

Since everyone was terrified of going inside the mansion to see Frank's rotting corpse or his ghost haunting the halls, no one disturbed the old house; they left it alone completely, ignoring the fact that it even existed. This was exactly why Lord Voldemort knew the hiding place was perfect.

"Bring them in, Wormtail," he said on the morning after Scrimgeour had been tortured. Lord Voldemort sat in the armchair by the fire in the drawing room, but he was not facing the fire; he was facing the door. His snake, Nagini, slithered around his chair, hissing excitedly.

"Yes, My Lord." Wormtail squeaked as he shuffled across the room to answer the knocking that had come from the other side of the door. Voldemort's Death Eaters, who had a ring formed around their master, watched the door in anticipation for what would come. They shivered with excitement and fear and their robes swayed in the small draft leaking through the walls.

The door opened and two Death Eaters, one tall and one shorter, walked in. All was silent except for their footsteps. Finally, even those died away as they stopped a few feet from the chair where their master sat.

Lord Voldemort stared at them icily, his red eyes narrowing and he gave a great, distant sniff, yet he said nothing.

The two figures bent double and bowed in front of their master and both murmured, "Master."

"You may rise," said Voldemort and the ring of Death Eaters shivered again. The two Death Eaters rose. Without warning, one of them stepped forward.

"Master," he said, dropping to his knees, "forgive me."

"Be silent, Draco." said Voldemort lazily, yet coldly. "Get up."

"Yes, master." Draco Malfoy whispered and he stood again.

"Snape, I have heard many rumors, as you probably know," began Voldemort, turning to the taller of the two Death Eaters. "I am hoping you will be the one to tell me the truth of what happened."

"I will try, My Lord, to serve you in this manner to the best of my abilities." said Snape, bowing slightly.

"Good, good…" said Voldemort quietly. "I have read the _Daily Prophet_, Severus--"

The ring of Death Eaters shivered at the use of Snape's first name.

"--and while there is no getting around the fact that Dumbledore is dead, there is question as to who killed him."

"It was I." said Snape.

"Such as Amycus said." whispered Voldemort. "Yet I gave specific directions that Draco would be the one to kill him. Or were my instructions not clear?"

"They were to their clearest, my Lord."

"But?"

"My Lord," said Snape, "when I arrived at the tallest tower, it was Draco, no one else, who had Dumbledore cornered and wandless."

"Yet he did not kill him, as were my orders?"

"No, my Lord."

Malfoy's head bent slightly in shame and his breathing became shorter in anxiety as to what would become of him for not following his masters' orders.

"So," Voldemort continued, "You killed Dumbledore for Draco when he could not?"

"Yes, my Lord." Snape answered.

"Why?"

The room became silent. Snape did not speak. Unexpectedly, another Death Eater threw herself out of the ring of shivering Death Eaters and began sobbing at Voldemort's feet, kissing the hem of his robes.

"My Lord, it is my wrongdoing! It is my fault that Snape had to kill Dumbledore instead of Draco!"

"Mother!" Malfoy said, slightly shocked and embarrassed.

"Why is this, Narcissa?" Voldemort said as the witch lifted her head to face her master. Tears were falling from under her mask.

"I miss Lucius, my Lord, and you know it, I gather. I could not bear to lose my son also. I knew he would die if he tried to kill Dumbledore, so I made Snape make the Unbreakable Vow."

"Ah, I see." said Voldemort. "And who was your Bonder?"

"Bellatrix."

The Ring of Death Eaters was broken again by another form, who almost flung herself into Voldemort's lap as she stuttered for forgiveness. The remaining ring of Death Eaters struggled to make their intervals even once more, covering up the gaps where their fellows were, moments before.

"Master! Forgive me! I only wished-- she was-- I was-- she's my sister, Master, what was I to do?"

"Be silent, Bella, and get up. You are putting yourself to shame."

Bellatrix stood beside her sister and began sobbing into her hands. Voldemort surveyed the four Death Eaters before him with a mixture of anger and betrayal playing across his face.

"It seems your family ties could not stop you from doing things behind my back. And while I already knew about your scheme-- yes, Bella. Wormtail told me. He was listening at the door after Snape jinxed him once. Severus, you didn't bother to jinx the door a second time. And even though I do admire your devotion to one another, your first and foremost loyalty should always, from now on, be to me."

"Yes, master, you are kind." Narcissa said, bowing to Voldemort again.

"Resume your positions, Bellatrix and Narcissa. Malfoy, come forward."

Draco shot a nervous glance at Snape, who stood behind him and then turned back around and walked silently to Voldemort. The Dark Lord drew his wand from his robes and pointed them at the teenager.

"_Crucio_!"

Malfoy let out an anguished scream as he dropped, twitching, to the ground. His body jerked and thrashed around so much that his black hood fell from his head, revealing his blonde hair. The remainder of his cloak twisted around his neck as he rolled and convulsed and he choked. Yet his screams did not cease. Over time, they got louder and raspier. His nails dug into his palms, but the pain did not stop.

Narcissa threw herself to the side of her master.

"My Lord! My Lord! Please, don't hurt him! I beg of you, my Lord, I beg of you! Please stop!"

The screams died away and Malfoy lay curled in a ball at Voldemort's feet gasping, desperate for air to fill his aching lungs.

"Back to your place, Narcissa." said Voldemort quietly.

Narcissa did not move. Instead, she stared at her son twitching before her. Snape advanced on the witch and took her by the shoulders, pulling her to her feet and sending her back to her space in the circle. At the same time, Voldemort spoke quietly to Malfoy.

"You know why you felt that pain, Draco?"

Malfoy did not answer. Voldemort continued.

"It is because you failed in the mission I gave you; to kill Dumbledore. It took you nearly a year to even get close. Severus told me that, at some periods, your efforts were becoming weaker and the time you wasted on such things was fruitless and foolish. I admitted you as one of my servants because you seemed keen for a chance to prove yourself. I admit, I thought you ready. But even Lord Voldemort makes mistakes…."

Malfoy grimaced and shut his eyes as a spasm of pain shot through his body from the after-affects of the Cruciatus Curse. Without waiting for an answer, Voldemort kept talking.

"By my law, if you do not meet my standards as a Death Eater, I should kill you."

"No--" Narcissa began, advancing on Voldemort, but Snape held her back and hissed her quiet.

"But you are young," Voldemort said, ignoring Narcissa, "and the task I set you was one that would be well-suited to someone with more experience. I miscalculated. So, I will give you one more chance to redeem yourself, Draco."

Malfoy opened his eyes and slowly looked up at Lord Voldemort, confusion lighting his face.

"This job should be somewhat easier for someone of your age, I would assume. And it is your last chance."

Malfoy scrambled to his knees and tilted his shaking head into a half-bow.

"You are generous, my Lord," said Malfoy, "thank you. What is the task? Whatever it is, I will see it done."

"I want you, Draco, and you alone, to bring me Harry Potter."

"Potter?" Malfoy spat. The Death Eaters surrounding Malfoy and Voldemort looked at one another. Malfoy seemed to catch the rudeness in his voice and he bowed his head again. "I will get him."

"One more thing, Draco."

"Yes, Master?'

Voldemort smiled.

"Bring him to me alive."

"I will, my Lord."

"And if you fail… I _will_ kill you."

At that moment, the door crashed open and Wormtail walked in and bowed at Voldemort's feet.

"M-my L-Lord," he said, "Widdius has r-returned."

Voldemort surveyed Malfoy on the ground, then stared back up at Wormtail.

"See him in. Severus, get Draco out."

"Yes, my Lord," Wormtail and Snape muttered in unison. As Wormtail turned to retrieve the guest from the entrance hall, Snape advanced on Malfoy and pulled him up by the scruff of his neck and guided him roughly out the door. They walked down the long, narrow hallway, unspeaking. Beside him, Snape could feel Malfoy trembling from head to foot, yet he did not speak until they had passed Wormtail and the cloaked Death Eater and their footsteps died away.

Once they reached the entrance hall, Snape turned to Malfoy who looked at the floor. With one swift movement, they both pulled off their masks.

"You are very lucky." said Snape quietly. "Not many people would have survived after disappointing the Dark Lord so."

"Leave me alone. It's because of you and my meddlesome mother that I even got into that mess." said Malfoy angrily.

"It was you, not I, who wished for you to join the Death Eaters."

"But if you and mother hadn't performed the Unbreakable Vow, it would be me who killed Dumbledore-- me who would be the Dark Lord's favorite! You always steal my glory."

There was a distant commotion that sounded like cheers from the other room.

"Good news, apparently," said Snape, getting out of the discussion of glory. "It sounds as if Widdius was able to persuade the Minister to set the Death Eaters in Azkaban free. Your father will soon return to the Dark Lord's side."

Malfoy did not respond. Instead, he walked slowly to the corner near the door and sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest. He stared at his hands. They were bleeding from when his nails dug into his palms. Closing his hands into fists, he looked up at his old teacher.

"Where does Potter live?"

Snape regarded Malfoy for a moment, taking pity on the seventeen-year-old before him.

"I can help you, Draco."

Malfoy stood up so quickly that he caused an old umbrella stand to tumble to the ground, sending several spiders scuttling across the dusty floor.

"I don't need your help. If you help, he'll kill me."

"If I could persuade the Dark Lord to allow me to be something of a guide to you, would you still want my help?"

"No. I can do it on my own."

"Don't underestimate Potter, Draco," Snape warned, "he may be as big-headed and thick as his father before him, but his powers are strong and he is learning to control them at an immense rate. It will be difficult to capture him."

"Potter doesn't scare me." said Malfoy bravely, squaring his shoulders.

"But he is a worthy opponent. Especially when he has Granger and Weasley behind him to back him up. Remember, he bested you at a duel even without his friends there to help."

"Well if you hadn't been so stupid as to leave your old schoolbook lying around where he could get to it--"

"Do not speak to me like that!" hissed Snape. Over time, he added, "And how did you know about that book?"

Malfoy reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered copy of an old potions book.

"Potter hid it in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. He put it in a cupboard and I found it when I was looking for a sealant for the Vanishing Closet."

Snape looked livid. Malfoy opened the book with an air of someone looking for a good dinner recipe.

"Handy little thing he had going for him. I don't suppose it was you who taught him that 'Sectumsempra', was it? Or how he beat the Mudblood Granger in potions every day?"

"It was." answered Snape. "However when I attempted to confiscate the book, he brought me Weasleys'. Or Wazlibs', as it were."

"I wonder what Master would think if I showed this to him and explained how it made Potter stronger. Perhaps I would be his favorite…" taunted Malfoy.

"Do not act so childish, Draco. Glory is not everything that you make it out to be. Worry less about your glory and more about the task that the Dark Lord set you on. And while you're at that, be thankful you're even alive after you disappointed him once. So you know, only one or two Death Eaters have ever survived the Dark Lord's wrath after they failed him. He is as ruthless to his servants than he is to his enemies. If you fail him a second time, he will show just about as much mercy to you as he would show Potter."

Malfoy sneered at Snape.

"I don't care about that. Because once I bring Potter to him, I will be his most loyal servant! I am not weak!"

"And yet you lowered your wand at a senile old man who could not defend himself when you knew perfectly well he was not capable of stopping you in any way."

Malfoy flushed.

"I'll show you. I'll show Mother! She still treats me like a child! I'm doing tasks for the Dark Lord and she still thinks of me as a mindless two year old."

"She cares about you, her only son."

"I'm of age now! I can take care of myself. I don't need either of you."

"Then, by all means, the door is right there." said Snape, gesturing to the door leading into the crisp morning air and bowing slightly.

"Don't mock me!" yelled Malfoy.

"I am not. I'm showing you the door. Prove to us all that your glory cannot be stolen from you, Draco. Show us all we are mindless beings when you bring Potter to us. And, by all means, don't ask for help for fear that you will be thought of as a child."

"Alright, I will!" said Malfoy. He stomped to the door, threw it open and ran outside, down the narrow steps, covering his face once more with his mask and readjusting his cloak over his head.

As he walked along the weed-laden lawn, he heard the door shut behind him. He walked to a nearby tree and hid behind it, leaning his back against the bark. Malfoy looked up at the sky. Though it was June and the early morning sky had been a bright blue, it was now cloudy, even as it was nearing midday and the mist grew heavier and the temperature dropped. Taking a few moments to calm himself, Malfoy reached inside his robes and pulled out his wand.

"Now, Potter," he whispered, his breath escaping in clouds, "where are you?"

OoOoOoO

Thanks to all of you for reviewing my last chapter! I love to see new faces, so newcomers to my stories… welcome. To the old faces… it's wonderful to see you guys again! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope you all enjoyed it.

I loved Draco in this, he was extremely fun to write! I hope you all enjoyed it too!

I haven't come up with a specific day of the week that I'd post each chapter, so even if it looks like I'm posting every Saturday, it won't necessarily remain thus. In the end, it could, but I don't want to set a date, only to get frustrated when I've run out of chapters and have to post the next night. So, my postings might remain sporadic for a while and maybe throughout the whole story.

**One last note**, or two. To keep up with me, look at my bio page. I'll let you know if my posting dates become nonexistent for a while. And also, I'm **seeking staff members **for my **C2 community**, _I'm Just Wild About Harry_. If you're interested, send me an e-mail!

May broomsticks be in your dreams!

Legolas-gurl88

**Next chapter: **Harry's birthday comes with a surprising bang to it.


	3. The Birthday Bang

**Title: **Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul

**Author: **Legolas-gurl88

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling is the brains of the operation… I'm merely a huge fan.

OoOoOoO

**3. The Birthday Bang**

Though August was looming closer, the days passed in nothing but clouds and mist. The cold air, that formed mere breath into fog, sometimes left a thin layer of crisp ice that coated each blade of grass in the mornings. Coats were worn in the mornings and nights and sweaters were underneath them. No one knew the cause for this unusual weather and it baffled the weatherman, who continuously promised warm weather was soon on it's way. Yet every day he was thwarted by the unwelcomed bitter chill of much colder weather than he had predicted the day before.

Soon it became so cold that nearly no one went for afternoon strolls as was custom in summer. However, down the streets of Magnolia Crescent, a boy walked quietly, his brilliant green eyes focused on his moving feet, trudging along in the inch of snow that had fallen over the night. His breath rose into mists that clouded his rounded glasses. Untidy jet black bangs fell to the brim of his glasses, covering a thin lightning-shaped scar upon his forehead.

Even in the cold weather, Harry Potter was known to take normal walks down the sidewalk alone every day, which seemed just plain strange to the other inhabitants of the neighborhood. When he passed someone who happened to be outside, scraping a thick layer of ice from a car windshield or shoveling a driveway, they always gave him a look of alarm as though he were a madman out to murder and quickly retreated into their house until they were sure he had gone.

Harry was used to this kind of behavior, for after nearly six years of his only relatives, the Dursleys, telling everyone he attended St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, everyone believed that he came home for the summer, more cracked than when he had left the summer before; possibly more dangerous as well.

It was, in fact, a lie that Harry attended St. Brutus's every year; a lie that had been formulated to cover the story of where he really went off to every year. For Harry's aunt and uncle were terrified that people would find out that their nephew was a wizard; a wizard, they assumed, who was preparing for his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For Harry had not yet told them that as soon as he turned seventeen, he was going to leave and not come back. In fact, he did not even intend to return to Hogwarts.

Harry turned at a sidewalk corner and passed a group of children making a feeble snowman with the one inch of snow provided for them. He grinned at one of the boys, who grinned back and waved, then yelled out, "Come play with us!"

As soon as these words were said, a tall and blonde woman ran out of the house wearing an apron and carrying a biscuit roller. She grabbed the boy by the wrist and took a little girl's hand, pulling them inside while two other children followed. Though the woman's back was turned, Harry could hear every word she was saying.

"Don't talk to him, children, he's not right in the head! Do not let me catch you talking to him again, Tom!"

"But _Mum_," the boy who had spoken to Harry whined as the door slammed shut and Harry looked back down at his feet and continued to walk. Just as he passed Mrs. Figg's house, he heard a loud screech and turned to confirm that what he was hearing was true.

"Hedwig!" he said as a snowy white owl landed on his outstretched arm, a letter clamped tightly in her beak. Hedwig dropped it so it fluttered into Harry's gloved hand, then gave his arm a friendly squeeze before she opened her wings and took flight again, towards his room where the window was opened, ready for her return. For a while, Harry watched her fly off until she blended too well with the white rooftops and disappeared. Then he turned his attention to the letter that had _To Harry_ written very neatly in the left margin. Harry recognized the handwriting at once and ripped open the letter, eager to read what it said.

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you doing? I've talked it all out with Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall and they said they'd allow me to Apparate to your aunt and uncle's house on August 1st, then have you side-travel with me to the Burrow from there. We've all been missing you terribly, especially Ginny, who swore she'd hex Pigwidgeon if we didn't get you soon. Ron wasn't too happy about the threat, but he brought up the subject of you over dinner that night. I'm already at the Burrow and so everything's being prepared for your arrival. We can't wait to see you again!_

_Love from,_

_Hermione_

Harry folded the letter, happier than he'd been in nearly four weeks, then turned on his heel and retraced his footprints leading back to Number Four Privet Drive. When he came bursting into the front door, he threw his jacket on the floor. Afterwards, he ran directly up the stairs and into his room, ignoring Aunt Petunia who began to rant about the snow he'd tracked in on her clean carpet.

Closing his bedroom door behind him, Harry saw Hedwig already sitting at his window sill, waiting for her cage to be opened so she could fly in and sleep. Once her head was under her wing, Harry closed the window in which cold air was now seeping through and went to his trunk. He opened it and pushed aside a few of his possessions to make room to pack. Then he stood back up and looked around his room, suddenly realizing with dismay that August First was still two days away and he needn't start packing yet. The happy bubble in his chest popped and he threw himself onto his bed and kicked off his shoes.

Almost instinctively, Harry reached down his shirt and pulled out the locket, the fake Horcrux, that he had been carrying with him ever since Dumbledore's funeral. And again, he pried it open and the crumpled letter fell onto his stomach. For the hundredth time that summer, Harry unfolded the letter and read it over and over, contemplating the entire time about who R.A.B. could possibly be. He felt as if he needed to figure out this mystery before he did anything else, for it was the task he had started with Dumbledore before he died, and it only seemed right to finish it first before he moved on to find yet another Horcrux. But if he found another Horcrux first, so be it. To Harry, it felt as if the destroying of the real Horcrux locket would be the most significant feat of all, for he considered it to be in honor of what Dumbledore had taught him.

There was a small rattle as the cat flap on his door opened, revealing Aunt Petunia's manicured hand, pushing in a bowl of heated soup. When Aunt Petunia's hand disappeared again, Harry watched for a few moments at the soup lying on the floor, but then turned his head back to face the ceiling once more. He wasn't very hungry. In fact, he'd spent his whole summer has he had spent the last; turning down meals and keeping quite out of the way of Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and their large son, Dudley.

But remembering Hermione's letter, he decided he'd better let Uncle Vernon know of Hermione's arrival date ahead of time to avoid the shock that occurred last time a magical folk appeared at their house. With a jolt of his stomach, Harry remembered it had been Dumbledore who had visited him last at Number Four Privet Drive.

Harry slid off his bed and walked quietly to his door, pushing the bowl of soup aside with his foot. He found Uncle Vernon sitting at the couch in the living room with Dudley at his side, watching the weatherman giving his dismal report of how tomorrow should be a cloudless and sunny day-- perfect for going swimming. Meanwhile, it began snowing harder outside.

"Uncle Vernon," said Harry, announcing his presence and two sets of watery eyes fixed upon him as he sat in a chair on the opposite end of the room.

"What do you want, boy?" said Uncle Vernon in greeting, talking over the anchorwoman giving her report on a manatee called Daisy who had given birth to twins the previous day.

"Well, it's my birthday tomorrow," Harry began slowly, unsure of the best and safest way he was going to break the news to his uncle.

"So?" said Uncle Vernon and Dudley together.

"I'll be coming of age, then-- for wizards, anyway." said Harry, watching as Uncle Vernon's eyes darted to the window to ensure that no one outside was eavesdropping on this conversation. Harry now wished he was talking to Aunt Petunia, who might understand the situation a bit better than her husband.

"And?"

"Well, there was a… a charm placed on this house that will deactivate as soon as I turn seventeen. After I do, it's not safe for me to stay here anymore."

"If any maniac people of _your_ kind show up, boy, I promise you, you will regret it."

Harry's heart dropped.

"How'd'you mean, 'maniac'?" he said lightly.

"Like that man who wants to kill you, or that old bloke that showed up last year-- I won't allow it."

"_He_ won't show up, at least." said Harry reasonably, though it cost him much effort to admit this to his uncle. "My friends wrote to me and invited me to stay with them, but I can't get there by myself. So one of my friends will be Apparating--"

"What the hell is _that_?"

"Erm-- disappearing from one place and instantly appearing at another," Harry recited, trying to describe it so Uncle Vernon would understand it. "Anyway, my friend, Hermione, will be Apparating here on August First to take me to my friend, Ron's house."

He finished his sentence lamely and wondered why he'd even tried to talk to Uncle Vernon who looked as though he'd just swallowed snake venom. But then realization spread across his face and he broke into a gleeful smile. Dudley looked shocked at his father's behavior and scooted his large body away from him.

"For good?" Uncle Vernon asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"They'll be taking you for good, then, won't they?" elaborated Uncle Vernon looking hopeful.

"Erm, yeah, I suppose…" said Harry.

"Well, then, your friend, Helen, was it?"

"Hermione," Harry corrected.

"Yes, that. She can come as long as she's taking you for good."

Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. Uncle Vernon, of all people, allowing a witch in his house.

"Alright, then," said Harry, deciding it was safer to end the conversation before Uncle Vernon could get a grip on what he was saying and change his mind entirely. Harry stood up and left to room so Uncle Vernon and Dudley could resume watching the television. He walked the way back to his room and sat down on his bed, staring blankly at the wall, lost in his thoughts. He would be leaving the Dursley's house for good. It would no longer be the prison in which he spent his summers. He was free to do whatever he wanted in one day. Finally, he would come of age.

As he rubbed his chest to ease it of the pain that had grown since the night Dumbledore died, Harry caught sight of the wizarding newspaper, the _Daily Prophet_, lying open on his desk where he had abandoned it earlier that morning. There had been a large article on the disappearances of every Death Eater from his or her cell in Azkaban and Scrimgeour's laxness in attempting to find them again.

While the clouds gathered still, allowing more snow to fall against the window, Harry lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. After he, Ron and Hermione left the Burrow, all three of them would make their way to Godric's Hollow. Harry had been planning all summer. Upon his desk lay maps upon maps of Great Britain as he searched for Godric's Hollow. He had also done a lot of research on the town and found that it was a village that wizards and muggles shared together, though the muggles, it was said, had no clue of their wizarding neighbors. It also said that Godric's Hollow was the top area of Great Britain in which the Memory Charm was performed the most for the number of times the muggles found out about the wizarding world.

Harry turned on his side and stared at his closet door, suddenly feeling tired. The sun was blocked by the heavy amount of clouds, causing a shadow to cast all over Harry's room. His eyelids closed shut and his body became slack as he fell into a doze.

Waking many hours later in shock as Dudley gave a grunt from the next room, Harry lay awake. The sky outside, though still clouded over, had grown dark and snow was now hitting the window with great force. Harry turned over and gazed at the luminous clock hands on his nightstand. Ten minutes to midnight. Ten minutes until he was legally old enough to take care of himself and use magic without having ministry letters rain down upon him. Hedwig shuffled under her wing as she sat, perched inside her cage.

No longer tired, Harry sat up in bed and watched as his clock slowly clicked to two minutes to midnight. There were goosebumps running up and down his arms; he had discarded his jacket earlier and was now only wearing an old, baggy t-shirt that used to belong to Dudley. It did not shield him from the cold of his room.

Thirty seconds left. Harry pulled out his wand and decided that when he turned seventeen, he would cast a small spell in celebration. Perhaps _lumos_…

Ten seconds and Harry decided on the Lumos spell. Three… two… Harry opened his mouth, ready to cast his spell… one--

BANG!

Harry swore loudly and jumped a foot from his bed and fell painfully on the ground, landing at a funny angle on his shoulder so it popped loudly and dislocated. He pulled himself to his feet and grasped his arm, wand forgotten on the floor. He tried to move his arm but the pain was growing so it could be felt all the way down to his fingertips. Eyes watering, he looked around for some way to help heal himself. He caught sight of his wand lying on the floor and he scooped it up, then pointed it at his shoulder.

"_Resarcio Scapulus_!" he whispered and he heard a tiny _pop_ and a short pain as his shoulder magically relocated itself, though it still ached horribly. Once he regained his senses, he began to wonder where the loud bang had come from. He had never heard anything as loud or powerful as that in his life. Gazing around, he saw Hedwig, her glowing eyes wide staring around as she screeched in fear and she flapped her wings so they banged against the bars of her cage. Harry rushed to her and opened up her door. She flew out and landed on his uninjured shoulder just as a resounding crash could be heard and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia ran in.

"What on Earth are you doing?" Uncle Vernon shouted, lunging at Harry who pointed his wand defensively at his overlarge uncle. Aunt Petunia screamed.

"Stay back." said Harry and Hedwig took flight to the closed window. "If you want to know what that was, don't ask me. I didn't do it."

Uncle Vernon gave a sound that was halfway between a loud snort and a disbelieving laugh.

"You've got your-- your… well, that _thing_ out, and you expect us to believe you?" he said incredulously.

"Yeah, I do." said Harry angrily, putting his wand down and stepping backward unconsciously. Dudley came wobbling into Harry's room and stopped as he reached his mother.

"What _was_ that?" he said, his many chins quivering as he spoke. "It woke me up and--" he was cut short by Harry, who hissed at him to be quiet. He had suddenly caught sight of the window and looked past Hedwig. The sky, though it was still snowing heavily, was tinged with green smoke.

"What _is _that?" Uncle Vernon asked, moving to the window to stand beside Harry. He waved an impatient hand at Hedwig. "Shoo."

Hedwig gave a Uncle Vernon a reproachful look and flew off to land on Harry's trunk.

"That-- that green smoke. What _is_ that?" Uncle Vernon asked again.

"I dunno. I've never seen anything like that before." Harry responded. "I'm going to go take a look." He stowed his wand in his pocket and ran to his trunk. Moving Hedwig aside, who was not happy about being moved again, he opened his trunk.

"What are you doing?" said Uncle Vernon, more disapproving than curious. Harry, who didn't answer, pulled out his Sneakoscope, which was whistling loudly and lighting up. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were staring at it with wide eyes, then continued to watch as Harry pulled out his broomstick, a stack of books, one of which began shouting at being woken up so early. He pulled out the Marauder's Map and more parchment, quills, ink and his family album, but still, he could not find what he was looking for. He pawed through all his belongings, but he couldn't find his Invisibility Cloak.

Harry swore violently and stood up, rushing to the door. However, Uncle Vernon blocked him.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going to go see where that smoke is coming from." answered Harry. Then he pushed his way past his uncle, ran out of his room, down the stairs, threw open the front door and began to pelt down the street that lead to the thick green smoke. There were several people who stood outside, gazing at the smoke in awe. Harry prayed they would not look at him as he ran faster, his breath coming in short gasps, his shoulder and chest aching more and more with each step.

The smoke grew thicker, surrounding Harry so that even if the Muggles looked at him, they would not be able to see him. The wind picked up and caused the smoke to float away in the other direction. Harry rounded a corner and stopped in his tracks, breathing heavily, his hand at his wand which was still resting in his pocket. The house that was letting off the huge quantities of smoke was Mrs. Figg's house. And at the base of her house, emerging from the door, was a hooded and cloaked figure. Harry ran closer and saw with horror that the cloaked individual was wearing a mask that signified that he was Voldemort's follower, a Death Eater. The Death Eater gave a shout and pointed his wand at the sky. A huge figure burst forth and flew over Mrs. Figg's house. Harry's insides twisted horribly as he saw a large figure of a skull with a snake protruding from the skull's mouth float to rest just above Mrs. Figg's house.

He pointed his wand at the Death Eater, but before he could stun him, he Dissaparated. Muggles gathered around Mrs. Figg's house, looking upwards at the Dark Mark and whispering to each other. Harry ran forward, towards the house, pushing Muggles out of the way. He reached the door of Mrs. Figg's house and yanked at it, but it wouldn't open. Harry pulled out his wand.

"_Alohomora_!" he whispered and the door unlocked itself. Muggles surrounding him gasped as he threw the door open and ran inside. "Mrs. Figg?" he called, ignoring the smell of overcooked cabbage, hoping the old woman was still alive and that the Dark Mark was merely a hoax. However, no answer came to comfort him and he ran up the stairs to the left of the front entrance, stopping dead at the topmost stair.

Mrs. Figg lay facedown on the ground in front of him. It took Harry a moment to realize what he was seeing, but he ran forward and turned her over. Her eyes were wide and her face was cut up as though she had put up a good fight before she was finished.

In a sudden bought of shock, Harry realized that the batty old lady who had once cared for Harry when he came to the Dursleys fifteen years previous, was dead. She had died as quickly as Cedric, Sirius and Dumbledore before her, but, unlike them, wasn't able to fight back. She couldn't use magic.

There was a sudden scrape from the landing below and a few voices sounded as flashlights pointed up to Harry.

"Who's there?" a deep voice called out.

"Harry Potter," Harry responded loudly, throwing caution to the winds and setting Mrs. Figg back down on the ground. A pale and thin police officer climbed the stairs, followed by two other officers.

"Did you do this?"

"No." said Harry, gazing down at Mrs. Figg. He realized that it did make him look suspicious, sitting with the body of Mrs. Figg in front of him.

"Do you know who did, boy?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, then, be off. We'll take it from here."

Harry nodded this time and stood up, passing the officers and jumping down the stairs three at a time. He suddenly comprehended the fact that a Death Eater had been there-- in Little Winging. Harry had never known them to come so close to Privet Drive before. Without even having to think about it long, Harry knew he was no longer safe. The Death Eaters-- or Voldemort-- could show up at Privet Drive at any moment to try and finish him. He was no longer safe-- Dumbledore's charm that had been placed upon the Dursley's house sixteen years previous was no longer active. Harry had to take care of himself now.

Standing in the freezing cold snow, wand in one hand, Harry had never felt so grown up in his life. It was up to him now-- no one else-- to take care of himself. And much more to think about, he was now legally allowed to use magic without adult consent-- the whole world was open to him.

It was then that he came to the conclusion-- he would have to run. More Death Eaters would surely be back. It was worse staying where they could find him easily than running away so it would be harder to track him.

With this thought in his head, Harry ran off back to the Dursley's house. He came bursting through the front door and turned, pulling his wand out and pointing to the lock, "_Colloportus_," he whispered and the lock clicked which told him the door had successfully been secured. He ran back up the stairs and threw open his bedroom door. Hedwig screeched at Harry's sudden entrance and took off from her place atop her cage to perch above his closet. Harry ignored her and ran inside, then stopped in the middle of the room, breathing heavily again, the pang in his chest growing and his arm becoming extremely sore. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure where he wanted to go. It was best to Apparate, but seeing as he didn't have his license, he couldn't do it. Dumbledore had been with him when he Apparated last, which made it somewhat legal. He would just have to fly. He picked up his broom off the floor where he had thrown it earlier, then gazed around helplessly. He needed to bring his things, but he didn't know if he had time to pack.

Suddenly inspired, he raised his wand, concentrating on a clean room and said, "_Pack_," as Tonks had three years previous. All his things, all the papers, books and clothes flew at his trunk and crashed inside it. The trunk slammed shut and Harry, mildly surprised that the spell had worked, ran forward. He opened the trunk again and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill and an ink well, scribbled a small note to Ron and Hermione, explaining what he was doing, set it carefully on top of all his things and slammed the trunk shut once more. Then, he grabbed Hedwig's empty cage from it's place atop his desk and positioned it to sit on his trunk. Harry pointed his wand at the trunk and whispered an incantation. The trunk and cage disappeared, leaving an empty spot where they had been, but Harry knew they had already arrived safely inside the Burrow, in Ron's room.

It took some time, but after a lot of coaxing and bribery, Harry was able to get Hedwig to fly down onto his arm. He carried her to the window and opened it.

"I've got to go." he whispered to her, stroking her white feathers as he walked to the window. "Fly to Ron's house and stay there, okay?"

Hedwig hooted in an reassuring manner and unfolded her wings, then took off out the window, flying over the rooftops and disappearing into the distance.

With nothing else to do that he could think of before leaving, Harry grabbed up his Firebolt where he had set it, mounted it and kicked off, soaring out of the window into the cold air where the snow had calmed slightly. His shoulder ached horribly, but Harry flew off as fast as he could to get as far away from the Dursley's house as possible before daylight hit and the whole world would know what happened to Mrs. Figg.

OoOoOoO

Yay! A new chapter! I hope you're all happy that Harry's in the picture now! But just to clear something up before it spreads and my review box is full of everyone pointing this out to me; It's thought that Ron and Hermione will be with Harry at the Dursley's and it's probably true, seeing as Ron said that they would be with him, but I decided to be different and separate myself from what everyone else is doing. I just wanted to let you all know that I am aware of the different way my story is being woven.

Also, I hope everyone had a great Christmas! Possibly one of my favorite presents was a brand-new computer chair for me! You see, I have my own computer in my room (but sadly, no internet connection), but since the day I got it (at the exact age of 14; the beginning of my career as an amateur writer) I've been using this old, wooden kitchen chair that is not remotely comfortable! So, you can imagine that from the ages of 14 to 17, I have been getting awful back pains for all the hours I've spent at the computer, typing. So, my new chair is perfectly welcome, because it has shoulder and neck support and it leans back a ways for when I need to steeple my fingers and plot something horrible. Mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaa!

As usual, I'm looking for people to staff my C2, _I'm Just Wild About Harry_. It would be nice if you've had experience with the C2 community and write Harry Potter stories yourself, so I can see what Harry Potter topics you're interested in.

Don't forget to review!

May broomsticks be in your dreams!

Legolas-gurl88


	4. Oppie

**Title: **Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul

**Author: **Legolas-gurl88

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling is the brains of the operation… I'm merely a huge fan.

OoOoOoO

**4. Oppie**

Snow fell harshly all night and continued well into the morning as Harry rode through it on his broomstick, trying to ignore the bitter cold that had set in. Harry's teeth chattered uncontrollably as he soared through the air, using cloud cover to make sure no Muggles would see him. The fingers gripping his broom were numb and red, as was his nose. Still, he continued to fly, unsure of where he wanted to go. His first thought was the Burrow, seeing as he would have been going there in a days' time anyway, but he realized a bit too late that he'd never bothered to find out where it was located. The only time he'd traveled a slow way to the Burrow was in the Ford Anglia Mr. Weasley has charmed into flying, but it was difficult to read directions when several hundred feet in the air.

Harry's second thought was the Leaky Cauldron; a nice place to stay with plenty of food and warm fires to go around. But no, if Death Eaters were looking for him, they'd find him much too easily. For a while, the side of Harry's brain desperate for a break from the miserable flying experience tossed around the idea that the Death Eaters might not have been looking for him at all. However, much to Harry's dislike, the other half of his brain overruled the idea; he was sure the Death Eaters were looking for him… unless Mrs. Figg was hiding something that the Death Eaters needed? That idea faded from his mind as suddenly as it had arrived.

In spite of himself, Harry began to shiver. If he didn't find a place to stay soon, he would freeze to death. He searched the vast grounds beneath him for a sign of a hint on where he might be able to stay. He recognized plenty of the buildings; they were enough to tell him he was in London, or close to it.

Suddenly, he remembered-- how could he have been so stupid as to forget it-- Grimmauld Place. But as the feeling of hopefulness grew, so did a sense of dread. He hadn't been to Grimmauld Place since Christmas two years ago. That had been the last time he'd seen Sirius before the Department of Mysteries incident. However, what choice did he have?

Going into an abrupt dive, he aimed to land in a narrow alleyway where he'd have plenty of space to dismount so no Muggles saw him. When his feet hit the ground, he slipped a little on the thin layer of ice and fell forward, thrusting out his sore arm to break his fall. Harry let out a small cry of surprise and pain as he let himself tumble over and land on the ice. Before he had time to regain his composure, he heard a call.

"'Oo's there?"

Harry scrambled to his knees and crawled through the snow and ice to hide behind an old dumpster. Just as he peered around the corner, he saw a scruffy man looking into the alleyway, suspicion mounting his eyes.

"'Choo callin' at, Oppie?"

"'Eard somefink, I did." said Oppie, his large eyes narrowing. Another man's head popped up behind's Oppie's head and he stared around, his long beard swaying in the small draft that was making it's way through the alleyway.

"Well, you mus' be 'earin' things, Oppie, look! There's no one there! Now, c'mon, 'fore I hafta pull ya."

Both men's heads disappeared and Harry waited a moment, listening to their voices die away. Then he stood up and walked back around the dumpster. He began to shiver harder. However, in all the chaos of the night before he hadn't remembered to bring a jacket or cloak, so he remained freezing. He pulled out his wand and whispered another short spell and watched as his broom shrank into the size of a small toy model broomstick. Picking it up, he brushed it off and pocketed it. Then, taking a deep breath, he emerged from the alleyway onto a sidewalk covered in snow. Very few cars were passing, as the sun had only just come up, but there were several people walking down the streets, all dressed in warm jackets and hats.

As Harry passed them, several Muggles eyed him cautiously and Harry was sure they, like himself, wondered why he hadn't thought of wearing a jacket before leaving the house.

He wandered around London for a few hours, occasionally stopping in shops to warm himself up. He spent nearly twenty minutes in a corner café gazing longingly at the different types of croissants stowed away in a revolving glass shelf for display. His stomach let out a loud growl as he watched them spin endlessly around but he didn't have any Muggle money to buy one, not to mention any wizard money to catch a ride on the Knight Bus.

Harry mentally kicked himself; of course… the Knight Bus. He could have easily taken the Knight Bus to Grimmauld Place, if he'd thought of it before sending his money pouch to Ron's house. Becoming slightly flustered, Harry's mind once again returned to the idea of Apparating illegally. He didn't know what the consequences were for Apparating without a license. He remembered Mr. Weasley once mentioning a heavy fine, but being a newly qualified wizard, would the fine be higher or would there be a special case? Would there be a possibly of having to face another hearing if he splinched himself? But what choice did he have, being stranded with nothing but his wand and his shrunken broomstick, and no map or money, nor idea of where to go?

Checking behind his shoulder, Harry ducked into the nearest alleyway and hid behind an old dumpster, leaning against the old, damp brick wall. His heart was beating unusually fast in his chest. He couldn't think of any other way than to Apparate. And perhaps, he hoped (and yet felt guilty to think it), there might be an exception to the law in the case of the 'Chosen Boy Who Lived', especially if he played it friendly with Rufus Scrimgeour afterwards.

Taking a deep breath, his mind fully made up, Harry stepped away from the brick wall and closed his eyes. He imagined the door to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, with no mailbox, or lock. Harry allowed every other thought to pass out of his mind as he focused fully and completely on his Destination. The first D, he thought with amusement, remembering the Apparation lessons from the previous year at Hogwarts. Or was it the second D…?

_No_, he told himself, _don't think of anything else. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place… Number Twelve Grimmauld Place…_

Harry's fists tightened as he concentrated harder and harder and then, he turned.

The next feeling was the familiar sudden uncomfortable sensation of being pushed through a tight barrel that he simply could not fit in to. He couldn't breathe, his eyeballs were being pushed into his head, his ears popped, his lungs felt as though they had collapsed.

Then the cold air hit his face with such a force that he nearly stumbled. Harry opened his eyes again to find that he was standing in front of the door to Grimmauld Place. Hugely pleased with his illegal accomplishment, Harry's heart skipped. Quickly, he peered around to be sure that no Muggles were around to have seen him appear out of thin air. When he saw no one, Harry faced the door and turned the knob. The door creaked open.

Harry stepped into the entrance hall, careful not to make much noise. After closing the door behind him, Harry took in the sight of Grimmauld Place. It was much dustier than it had been two years previous, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before the Order took to cleaning it up. The curtains were drawn, leaving it quite dark except for the little bit of sun able to bleed through them. Harry immediately noticed slight differences in the scene before him. The troll's leg that had before been used as an umbrella rack was gone; no doubt stolen by Mundungus, thought Harry, his stomach boiling with anger. As were several portraits and pottery decorations that had once sat on tables and chairs. The only thing that hadn't changed dramatically was the drape drawn across Sirius's mother's portrait, proving that the Order had still not been able to get her down.

As unwelcoming as the house was, it was undoubtedly warmer than the weather outside, even when the fireplace was not lit. Harry tip-toed over to one of the armchairs that had not been looted by Dung and dropped himself into it. The soft cushions felt good on his aching back and they warmed him considerably. He was even tempted to take a nap, but his stomach told him otherwise. After resting a bit longer, he stood up and walked into the kitchen to see if the Order had left any food. Walking to the nearest cupboard, Harry pulled it open and, to his surprise, found mounds and mounds of bagged and canned foods. There was even a jar of jam labeled with Mrs. Weasley's handwriting-- _Dumbledore's Raspberry Jam_. Harry couldn't help but laugh quietly. He reached out and grabbed the jar with one hand with the other, grabbed a loaf of bread.

With great effort, Harry pried the jar open and sat at one of the kitchen chairs. He pulled two slices from the loaf of bread and then grabbed his wand out of his pocket.

"_Accio knife_!" he whispered and a drawer a the other end of the kitchen sprang open. Out jumped a knife and it soared through the air, stopping only when Harry grabbed the handle and helped himself to raspberry jam on toast.

Harry crammed the whole slice into his mouth and savored the flavor of the jam. After going almost two days with no food, Harry felt grateful that there was a full cupboard that he could go to that was all his. Floorboards directly above the kitchen creaked and Harry gazed upwards. However, after a second or two, the creaking ceased and Harry resumed to eating his snack.

The rest of the day was spent by walking around the familiar house and finding out what had survived the wrath of Mundungus Fletcher. Harry found that almost all the furniture in the Drawing Room was gone and the bed in the Master Bedroom where Sirius had slept was absent. It even took Harry a bit to find out that several mounted House-Elf heads were missing from their normal spots on the walls, as well as all the expensive jewelry in Mrs. Black's jewelry box. It was then that Harry decided that as soon as Mundungus got out of Azkaban, Harry would kill him for lifting so many of Sirius's old possessions-- Harry's only mementos of anyone that had ever seemed like a father to him.

Silently, he walked into his and Ron's room to find that almost nothing was missing. However, Harry wasn't too surprised, because the beds were old and lumpy.

"So… _you're_ back, are you?" said a sly voice behind Harry and he spun around to see who had spoken.

Phineas Nigellus was leaning on his frame in a regal manner, stroking his fur jacket and plucking at his black glove uninterestedly. He didn't even look at Harry.

"Yeah," answered Harry. Unsure of what else to say to the man, he turned away and gazed out the snow-piled window. Outside was nothing but a blizzard of snow and tree branches swaying in the wind.

"Well, no matter how thick you are, you're much better company." said Phineas. Harry turned back to the portrait.

"What?"

"I said, 'you're much better company', dolt."

"Better company than who?"

"Well, he hasn't been the house for a few days. I visited some other portraits and found him in the attic this morning, snarling and barking. Now, I cannot remember his name…."

Harry's mind raced. Snarling and barking?

"Lupin?"

"Yes!" said Phineas, pointing a gloved finger almost accusingly. "Yes, that's the name. Lupin, he told me."

"Lupin's here?" Harry asked aloud, more to himself than to the portrait. However, Phineas continued to speak, clearly enjoying the conversation after being shut up for so long alone. But then, Harry cut him off.

"Where did you say he was? The attic?"

"Yes," said Phineas, throwing out his chest in defiance, "but I wouldn't go up there now if I were you. He told me he'd be better tonight."

"Has he taken his potion?" asked Harry.

"As if I know. _He_ doesn't talk to me." sniffed Phineas, turning his nose up at Harry in a dignified manner.

"Alright, then," said Harry, starting to get annoyed. He turned away from Phineas once more. Then, he mumbled, more to himself than the old Hogwart's headmaster, "I'll just go downstairs and wait."

With that, he exited the room, leaving Phineas huffing at the indignity of being treated most rudely. In fact, he ran through two portraits of other Black family members who shrieked in anger, just to chase Harry. Though Harry tried to ignore him, he picked up sentences like "insensitive adolescent" and "disrespectful to the entire Black Family".

"--just like that great-great-grandson of mine! Ho-ho! You're just like him, besmirching our name… his mother had a right mind to disown him!"

"Yeah, and Regulus was loads better, getting himself killed by Voldemort!" Harry yelled, turning on his heel halfway down the staircase leading to the entrance hall. His voice echoed and he could hear Mrs. Black's portrait come to life, her shouts echoing with Phineas'. Amongst all the din, Harry heard a dog give a loud howl that turned into a shout of pain.

"Look," Harry said over Mrs. Black, giving Phineas a look that stopped him yelling.

"No, no, you've said enough, you have." Phineas said stiffly as though he deeply insulted, looking coldly down his nose at Harry. "Regulus died too young… much too young. But he died with honor, unlike his no-good elder brother."

Harry gave a sour laugh, but didn't have anything else to say. Instead, he jumped down the last of the stairs, running into the entrance hall. Mrs. Black's portrait was showing, the curtains that normally hid her were flailing about. Harry ran and seized them roughly, attempting to pull them over the woman, whose skin was a putrid yellow color, and whose eyes were bulging. With difficulty, Harry managed to wrench the curtains around the giant painting and Mrs. Black's shrieks finally died away. Harry stood where he was, panting, still grasping the ends of the curtains when he heard a voice.

"Harry?"

He turned and found the friendliest face he'd seen in almost two months. Remus Lupin stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking immensely tired and care-worn. His graying hair caught the remains of light from outside, but it made the shadows on his face darker. His shabby clothing hung loosely on him and he looked as if he hadn't had a decent meal in several days.

"What are you doing here?" Lupin whispered. "Why aren't you at Molly's?"

"What're _you_ doing here?" Harry returned the question, his voice lowered.

"Last I checked, this place was still Headquarters." said Lupin, looking slightly hurt at the less-than-friendly greeting from Harry.

"Oh-- yeah… sorry." mumbled Harry. "I forgot-- I thought-- since Dumbledore died and all--"

"We have a new Secret Keeper." whispered Lupin. "Arthur Weasley."

"Oh." said Harry. "Then how did _I_ get in?"

"Probably two reasons," said Lupin, taking Harry by the shoulder and guiding him into the kitchen so they could talk in normal tones without waking Mrs. Black. "One--" said Lupin once the kitchen door had closed behind them, "-- when we transferred the information from Dumbledore to Arthur, we kept several of the Secret Keeper's contacts. I don't know if you were among them, but if you weren't--" he sat Harry down and went to the cupboard to take out teacups, He tapped a teapot with his wand and it instantly filled with steaming tea, "--this house is yours anyway. I don't know if that has anything to do with Secret Keeping or Sirius's will that you'd be allowed in without the Secret Keeper's consent."

"Right," said Harry, accepting the cup of tea. He took a sip and it instantly warmed his insides.

"So now, for my question." said Lupin, sitting across from Harry and drinking from his own chipped cup. "Why aren't you with Ron?" his voice became worried and stern, "What's happened?"

"Haven't you heard?" Harry asked, immensely surprised. He thought word would have gotten out about the Dark Mark over Mrs. Figg's house in several hours.

"I haven't heard from anyone. Molly and Arthur are busy preparing for Bill's wedding, Nymphadora is off spying for the Order, Kingsly and Charlie are somewhere in Portugal now, trying to convert more people to join the Order and McGonagall is overseeing the reconstruction of Hogwarts. I'm quite alone here."

"Oh." said Harry. And he told Lupin about everything, from the Death Eaters to the Dark Mark, to Mrs. Figg. By the time he finished, the sky had gone very dark and if it weren't for the howling wind causing the house to creak, they couldn't tell a snowstorm was raging outside.

"So I Apparated here, because it was the only place I could think to go." Harry finished, swirling the dregs of his tea with his index finger.

"You _Apparated_ here? You don't have a license." said Lupin sternly.

"I realized that." said Harry sardonically "I was freezing and lost. What would you have done?"

"Never mind that. So you don't know who the Death Eater was?"

"I didn't get a chance to find out." said Harry. "He Dissaparated before I could stun him."

"'He'? You're sure it was a 'he'?"

Harry laughed quietly.

"You sound just like Hermione." he said. "Yeah, I'm positive it was a 'he'. His voice was deeper than a girls' voice would be."

"I wonder if the Ministry's caught wind of this yet." said Lupin darkly, looking out the gloomy window.

"Probably," said Harry, looking out the window as well, "but for now, I'm not sure what to do. I mean, I'm of age now, so--"

"That reminds me," said Lupin, pulling his wand out of his robe pocket. "_Accio_!"

There was silence for a few seconds until Harry heard something zooming through the air. The kitchen door burst open on its own accord and a long, thin parcel, wrapped in brown paper flew to the table and landed neatly in front of Harry.

"Happy Birthday." said Lupin simply.

Harry hesitated for a moment and with a quizzical look at Lupin, he began to unwrap the package. Underneath the paper was a narrow box, decorated with blue velvet and tassels hanging from the corners. His fingers shaking, Harry pulled the lid off the box. Inside, sitting atop a dusty red cushion was a rather battered and old-looking wand.

"Er-- thanks." said Harry politely. He held back the temptation to point out to Lupin that he already had a wand and was too fond of it to switch over to another.

"Do you know what that wand is?"

"No." said Harry honestly, staring at the wand.

"Mahogany. Eleven inches. Unicorn hair."

"Sorry-- no." said Harry, trying to rack his brain for any memory of ever hearing about this particular wand. It did seem somewhat familiar.

"This wand, Harry," said Lupin, bending his head down and peering at Harry from under his eyebrows, "belonged to your father."

"Dad?" gasped Harry, his eyes widening. "This-- this was _Dad's_?"

The memory came back to him.

"Ollivander told me about this wand on my eleventh birthday! When I was in his shop!"

"I would assume he did." said Lupin, smiling slightly. "He always went on about his old customers' wands to their offspring. I got a full eight minutes of a lecture about my mum's wand."

Harry stared down at the wand again, his mind feeling strangely detached from his body. His father's. This had been his _father's_ wand. While part of him was curious about the wand's history, another part of him felt very somber. This very wand had been in his father's hand when he died-- died trying to protect his wife and son from Lord Voldemort…

"Harry?" asked Lupin.

Harry came to, looking up at Lupin. He forced a smile and took the wand out of it's box, holding it in his hand.

"Thanks, Professor." said Harry, giving the wand a little flick and the table was showered with several gold sparks.

"You're quite welcome, Harry." said Lupin, brushing the sparks off onto the floor with the back of his hand looking both amused and sad.

"How did you get it? How did you know where to look?"

Lupin surveyed Harry interestedly.

"I _didn't_ have to look, actually. _It_ came to _me_."

"How?" Harry asked, setting the wand carefully back into it's velvet box and closing the lid.

"I got it the day after James and Lily died, actually." said Lupin thoughtfully. "The Magical Department of Recuperation Committee found it when they tried to clean up the wreckage. By that time, Peter was supposedly dead and Sirius was in Azkaban. I was the last of James' close friends, so they brought it to me, explaining what had happened…." Lupin trailed off, his voice cracking slightly. He looked down at his hands resting on the table and cleared his throat uncomfortably. Harry waited for him to speak, but he remained silent.

"Tried?" Harry croaked, breaking the silence. "Er-- _tried_ to clean up the wreckage?"

Lupin looked back up and nodded.

"You see, Harry, the strange thing about that house is that not everyone was allowed in."

"Well I know _that_. Sirius and Pettigrew were my mum and dad's Secret Keepers, weren't they?"

"It's not that." Lupin shook his head patiently. "The only one that actually made it into your parent's yard was Hagrid when he went to retrieve you for Dumbledore."

"So?"

"Anyone else who tried to even step on the grass was flung backward and out of sight. No one could get in-- except Hagrid."

"W-what made him so different?" asked Harry.

"I have two theories of how he may have managed it." said Lupin. "I think he had a sort of… protection from Dumbledore placed upon him, allowing him to enter through the curse. I also have reason to believe that Hagrid's giant magic helped him. Giants are powerful creatures, you know. I think that had something to do with it. Both powers combined created a power strong enough to break through Voldemort's curse on the house. And Dumbledore desperately wanted to retrieve you because he'd heard from a neighbor that they had heard you crying inside. And that's where Hagrid found you, still wrapped in Lily's arms."

"So-- so how'd the Department of Recuperation get to my dad's wand?" asked Harry, his heart wrenching and his insides twisting at the mental image of himself at one year old, hiding, terrified, in the folds of his dead mother's arms.

"I'm not entirely sure. I didn't think to ask them, because at that point, they didn't know about the curses, I'm supposing. So my biggest guess is that it somehow _rolled _off the property. No one's been on that property since Hagrid. Not once in sixteen years."

Harry stared hard at the box containing his dad's wand. He couldn't think of anymore burning questions to ask Lupin.

"I-- erm-- hadn't really expected to give this great long speech on the subject," said Lupin, somehow understanding what Harry couldn't say. Harry looked up at his father's old friend; one of the Marauders.

"Thanks, though. No-- really-- it means a lot-- er… thanks." said Harry, catching the look on Lupin's face.

"Tea?" asked Lupin once he noticed Harry's empty teacup.

"No." said Harry, standing up and taking the blue box and putting into his pocket. "I'm actually really tired. I-- I think I'll go to bed."

"Alright, then." answered Lupin, standing up as well and waving his wand. The teacups disappeared and the teapot zoomed into the sink and began to clean itself.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was sitting on the edge of his bed in his and Ron's room, staring blankly at the wall opposite of him. Clasped in his hands was his father's wand. His mind raced as he listened to Lupin's footsteps from the room above, images flashing before his eyes of his parents' deaths. His back ached from his night-long broomstick ride and his chest throbbed. But Harry could think of nothing other than his parents. Though the wand brought back painful images and memories, Harry was thankful to Lupin for giving it to him. He supposed it took a lot to give away the only memory he had of his friend.

Once again, Harry's hand clamped over the fake Horcrux. For some reason, he felt a burning desire to leave Grimmauld Place and travel to Godric's Hollow alone. But something held him back-- the weather, for one; Harry didn't think he could face flying through the snow for a second night in a row-- but also that he felt closer to Ron and Hermione than he had in a long time and Harry felt he owed it to them to respect their wishes and allow them to join him on his journey if they still wished it.

Harry lay back on his bed, dressed in the same clothes from nearly two days ago, and gazed at the dark ceiling. After what felt like forever, he finally succumbed to a long-needed sleep, his even breaths matching with Phineas'.

OoOoOoO

So there you have it. Harry's safe. Hooray! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and hopefully I'll have another one up soon. Until then, stay safe and sober!

The usual drill-- if you're interested in staffing my C2, _I'm Just Wild About Harry_, give me a ring. And if you think your friends might be interested, send them my way! They don't have to read my story to be part of the staff! They just need a bit of experience in the C2 area. And a hearty welcome to my two new staff members **uknowho **and **drgn prncss**!

May broomsticks be in your dreams!

Luv,

Legolas-gurl88

LG

**Next chapter: **Harry returns to the Burrow.


	5. The Daily Prophet

**5. The Daily Prophet**

Morning came much too quickly for Harry's liking and soon he regained conciousness, finding himself curled into a small ball on his bed to keep warm. He sat up and looked out the window. Unsurprisingly, yet very much to his dislike, it was still snowing.

Memories from the previous night swooped down upon him and the familiar gloomy feeling set back into his chest. Silently, he stood up and walked to the door, trying not to wake Phineas Nigellus, who was snoring loudly as he leaned against his frame.

Harry walked down the stairs, his footsteps echoing slightly when he came to the landing. He tip-toed past Mrs. Black's portrait from which a subtle grumbling could be heard and he went into the kitchen to find Lupin sitting at the table exactly where Harry had left him.

"Good morning," said Lupin, holding up a steaming mug of something in a sort of toast to Harry.

"'Morning," Harry replied, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Coffee?" said Lupin, a faint glimmer in his eye. "You look like you need some, personally."

"Yeah, thanks," grumbled Harry, dropping into the nearest chair. When he looked up, a mug was sitting next to his right hand as though it had been there the entire time. Harry grabbed it and took a long sip. Immediately, his senses slowly started coming back to him.

"I finally got the _Daily Prophet_." said Lupin, holding up the newspaper to show Harry the front page. Harry read the front page title: '_Mayhem of the Wizarding World_.' Beneath the letters was a moving picture of Mrs. Figg, smiling shyly at him and another picture beside hers of him, Harry, from his fourth year.

"What's it say?"

"Oh, just what you'd expect it to," said Lupin, opening the next page and scanning the lines, "'_Arabella Figg died two night ago…' 'witnesses saw a man in a long black cloak exit the house…' 'Harry Potter gone missing…' 'searching for clues…._' And then they have a long article about how the Ministry has it all under control. Molly sent it to me, by the way. She's worried sick about you."

"Oh," said Harry, feeling slightly guilty. "Did she get my things?"

"Yes. They're up in Ron's room right now." said Lupin. "I Flooed her and told her you were fine. She's told Arthur and he's going to set it straight at the Ministry. And I told her I'd be taking you to the Burrow later today."

"Alright." said Harry. "Will you be staying as well?"

"I'll be around for Bill and Fleur's wedding. But after I drop you off, I'm right back here, waiting for an important message from Nymphadora." said Lupin, apparently seriously regretting taking on the job of manning Grimmauld Place alone.

"Oh," said Harry. "So what time will we be leaving?"

"She's expecting us at noon."

Harry looked at his watch. There were still three hours to go.

"How're we going?" asked Harry. "Floo?"

"No, Floo is only safe if you're using it for communication purposes these days, not traveling."

"Why?"

"Because people have been disappearing in between hearths. No one knows where they are. They left through one fireplace and never came out the other side. The Order is supposing Voldemort has Death Eaters set up at fireplaces to grab anyone they see flash by. It spread pandemonium around for weeks until the Minister banned Floo travel. No, we're traveling by Side-Along-Apparition… no matter how good you are at Apparating illegally."

Harry grinned mischievously and stood up to get himself some cereal for breakfast.

During the last three hours of his stay at Grimmauld Place, Harry wandered around the house with Lupin, helping him tidy and dust a bit so it would get to be so dirty again. Finally, it was time to leave. Harry, having no earthly possessions with him except the fake Horcrux, his minimized broomstick which was still in his pocket and now his father's wand, didn't have to do any preparing before he left.

"Ready to go?" asked Lupin, hanging a traveling cloak around his own shoulders. Harry nodded. "Then take my arm-- not too hard. There. On three, right? One… two… three."

Harry and Lupin turned together and Harry felt the momentary uncomfortable feeling one gets when they Apparate. However, the feeling was becoming slightly vague now. He opened his eyes (which had been closed whilst Apparating) and saw in the distance, through all the snow, the Burrow looking more like a snow-capped mountain than anything.

"Why are we so far out?" Harry yelled to Lupin over the howling wind. His teeth instantly began chattering.

"Safety charms are placed around the house so that we can't Apparate inside them!" Lupin yelled back. "C'mon, before we freeze!"

They spent the next several minutes trudging through the knee-deep snow towards the small lights shining through the windows.

"Keep your wand out!" shouted Lupin. "We're not sure if Death Eaters can attack here but we're not completely safe until we pass the protection line!"

"You mean the Shield Charm?" Harry shouted back at Lupin, who shook his head.

"Shield Charms don't last long and can be broken. Protection lines are more complex and almost impossible to get through if you don't have the password. Get your wand out." he reminded again.

Harry pulled out his wand and grasped it in his cold hand. It felt slightly warmer, having been sitting in his pocket and it relieved his fingers of the slight tingling that had now taken place. His very bones felt like ice and he huddled closer to Lupin to get warmer. However, he had the advantage of sight, because the snow was hitting his glasses instead of his eyes, whereas Lupin had to shut his eyes almost completely to block out the harsh-falling flakes. When they got closer to the Burrow, Harry could hear Lupin muttering some sort of spell that Harry was sure was deactivating the protection line so they could go through it.

Finally, they were at the door. Lupin pounded it several times and withdrew his hands into his cloak to warm them. The door opened within a matter of seconds.

"Remus! Harry, dear! You both look frozen-- come in, come in!"

"Thank you, Molly," said Lupin, sounding relieved as he passed Mrs. Weasley, a plump, yet kindly witch, who was Ron's mother. She, like all her children, bore the famous Weasley red hair. "It's murder out there."

"I know, I know, come by the fire, both of you, and dry off." Mrs. Weasley ordered, ushering both of them towards the large fire in the fireplace. The fire crackled and snapped and felt very good against Harry's back. He gave a sigh of absolute pleasure just as Mrs. Weasley swooped down on him, gave him a tight hug and kissed his cheek.

"I'm so happy you're alright, Harry. Oh, when I saw the _Daily Prophet_, I was so worried!"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry reassured her as they parted. Mrs. Weasley subconsciously smoothed his shirt around the shoulders as she stared at him.

"Well, it's not exactly how I planned you celebrating your seventeenth birthday! Running away like that!"

"Sorry." said Harry. The feeling of guilt struck him harder than it had at Grimmauld Place. "I just-- it seemed like the right choice at the time."

"Bygones, Harry." said Mrs. Weasley. She stepped away from the fire and walked into the kitchen. "Now, I have some soup heated up for you. The rest of the lot already ate, they're all upstairs. Remus, would you care to stay for some soup?"

"I'd love to, Molly," said Lupin, "but I have to go back and wait for Nymphadora's response."

"Take some with you, then." said Mrs. Weasley, carefully ladling some delicious-smelling soup into a small bowl and handing it to Lupin.

"Thank you, Molly." he said, smiling at her. "It looks wonderful."

Mrs. Weasley smiled back at Lupin. Lupin, however, turned to Harry.

"I'll see you soon, Harry." he said, balancing the soup in one hand and pulling his wand out in the other.

"'Bye Professor. Thanks for everything." said Harry. Lupin winked at him.

"There's no need to see me out, Molly, I can manage." he said. With a last half-wave to Harry and a nod to Mrs. Weasley, he left the room. There was the sound of the front door opening, then slamming shut, then nothing.

"Come eat by the fire, Harry, dear, and warm up. You're freezing." said Mrs. Weasley, shoving a bowl of soup and a plate of bread into his hands and guiding him towards an old, stuffed chair by the fire. Harry sat down, put the bread in his lap and started sipping the soup hungrily. Mrs. Weasley watched him for a few moments before saying, "I'll get Ron and Hermione for you, dear. I'll be right back."

Harry was left alone for a while, with nothing but the sounds of the crackling fire and snow hitting the windows. Above the fireplace sat Mrs. Weasley's clock with nine hands, each representing a member of the Weasley family. As it was last year, all hands remained pointed at 'Mortal Peril'.

Suddenly, there was thundering sound from upstairs. Harry stood up, setting the food down on the small side table, which was lucky, because the next second Harry found himself being smothered by a bunch of bushy, brown hair. There was a loud shrieking in his ears. Finally, the shrieks died out as Hermione pulled away from Harry and surveyed him happily.

"Oh, Harry! I'm so relieved! You've no idea how worried we all were!"

"I'm fine, Hermione, _fine_!" Harry tried to say over Hermione's rambling. After a while, he gave up and looked over Hermione's shoulder to see his best friend, Ron standing there. Ron was grinning in a relieved sort of way, with a look that clearly said he hadn't expected to see Harry again. He walked up to Harry and punched his arm in greeting.

"Great to see you, mate--"

"--but you wouldn't believe what happened, Harry--" Hermione continued on, completely ignoring Harry and Ron.

"--she's been doing this all day, it's driving me _mad_--"

"--I'd left to pick you up at your aunt and uncle's and they went up to get you, but you weren't there--"

"--Hermione, give it a rest!" Ron shouted. He looked half ready to strangle Hermione.

"--I was _ever _so worried, so I came back and Mrs. Weasley showed me the paper--"

"--after a while, you sort of learn to ignore her--" shrugged Ron. "But--"

"--she said she'd sent an owl to Lupin and he Flooed her, telling her that he had you--"

"--Hermione, shut up!"

"Well, excuse me, Ron, for being worried!" said Hermione.

"Quiet, you three, please," said Mrs. Weasley as she came bustling downstairs with a basket of dirty clothes. "Arthur and Bill are sleeping. They've had long stays at the Ministry, trying to track you down, Harry."

Harry's guilt rose to it's maximum. When he'd decided to leave Privet Drive, he didn't even stop to think how much trouble he'd be causing for the Weasleys and Hermione.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Weasley--" he began.

"Oh, don't fuss over it, Harry." said Mrs. Weasley absentmindedly, sorting the clothes by colors into their own separate hampers. "You're safe and that's all we can ask for. Now, about tonight, a few people are coming over for your birthday, Harry. I thought a nice, small party to celebrate your coming of age would be a good way to break the monotony and set a tone of cheerfulness for once."

Harry nodded, but didn't say anything. However, he leapt a foot off the ground when someone grabbed his shoulders from behind. He spun around very fast and came face-to-face with a smiling Ginny. She was just as pretty as ever and she was carrying a large, red Quaffle under her arm.

"Hey, Ginny," he said as she gave him an enormous hug. Ron looked away uncomfortably and rolled his eyes. Unfortunately for him, Ginny caught this over Harry's shoulder.

"Oh, come off it, Ron! We're not dating anymore, can't we at least be _friends _without you constantly acting as if it's a crime?"

"I never said--"

"--Good." Ginny answered. She looked back at Harry. "I'm really glad you're alright. I was--"

"--Not _really worried_, I hope?" Harry cut in, grinning as well. "Where have I heard that before?"

Ginny laughed, then turned to Hermione.

"I took Crookshanks into my room. He was annoying Phlegm and she 'seemply '_as_ to 'ave 'er beauty sleep.'" Ginny said, imitating Fleur's voice in mock tones.

"Alright." Hermione responded.

"So Phlegm-- Fleur's here, then?" asked Harry, correcting himself mid-sentence.

"Yeah." Ginny grimaced. "Along with about half her family. I swear, I don't think this house has ever held so many people at one time. But we all sort of keep to our corners. Her parents are here, obviously. Also, her grandparents, her aunt and uncle, her cousin…." Ginny ticked off her fingers as she named all of Fleur Delacour's relatives that would be staying for Fleur's wedding, "… and her sister, Gabrielle, who, I swear, hasn't stopped _nagging_ us to get you here faster ever since _she_ got here."

"Which was about two weeks ago." said Ron and he scowled as well. "It's just about as annoying as… well… Phlegm. Probably runs in the family."

"Oh yeah, like you are as smitten with Phlegm as Gabrielle is with Harry!" said Ginny.

Ron opened his mouth to give an angry retort, but Mrs. Weasley hushed him.

"Honestly, you two, your father is _sleeping_." hissed Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen.

"Sorry, Mum." Ron and Ginny chorused morosely. A few seconds of silence followed in which the four of them stared at each other.

"So, how's Bill?" Harry asked, breaking the silence. Ron and Ginny exchanged glances.

"Better," said Ron.

"He doesn't look like he used to, but he's Bill and that's all we need, I suppose," said Ginny.

"So no transforming, then?"

"No." said Ron. "He was in his room alone for about two days, and he took that potion that Lupin takes, just in case he did turn into a werewolf, but all that happened was his eyes turned kind of yellowish color."

"That's good." said Harry and the rest nodded in agreement. Ginny started tossing the Quaffle up into the air and catching it again.

"Come in here, you lot, and help with the decorations." Mrs. Weasley called from the kitchen. The four of them trouped in and took the decorations that were laid out for them.

Just as Harry took the streamers from a large bag, Mrs. Weasley called to him.

"Harry, dear, you've had enough to do. Why don't you rest?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley. _Really_." he added, seeing her look of exasperation. "Honestly, I'd like to help."

Mrs. Weasley nodded in an alright-it's-your-funeral sort of way and continued smothering icing on the birthday cake she was working on.

Harry and Ron, who had both taken on the red and gold streamers, grabbed chairs and tacks to start hanging the decorations by hand until they saw Hermione whip out her wand and charm the 'Happy Birthday' signs up. They laughed at their moment of forgetfulness and pulled their own wands out to hang the streamers. Ginny became annoyed that she couldn't use magic as well until Hermione offered to help her. Together, they finished in two minutes flat. Harry, Ron and Hermione all sat at the table, playing with the newly spread confetti and watching the snowfall outside. Ginny pulled out her Quaffle and began kicking it like an overlarge hackie sack.

"So, Harry," said Ron, "what about our Apparation Tests, eh?"

Harry's heart skipped a beat. He'd completely forgotten about his Apparation Test. The entire summer, he'd been surveying maps of Great Britain for when he, Ron and Hermione would take off to find the remaining Horcruxes. Not once did he try to study for the Apparation Test.

"I-- I forgot." he admitted. Ron grinned.

"Ah, you'll do fine." said Ron casually. "You've already Apparated more times than Hermione has _with_ her license."

"Not to say that that's _good_, Harry," began Hermione, "I mean, other than when you were with Dumbledore, you've been Apparating alone and you could get in trouble for that!"

SPLATTER.

"GINNY!" Mrs. Weasley roared. Harry turned in his seat to see what had happened. It appeared that Ginny had kicked the Quaffle at an odd angle and it flew strait at Mrs. Weasley's cake. Mrs. Weasley stared in disbelief at the remains of the cake, and pulled the Quaffle from the middle. It was completely coated in vanilla ice cream and icing.

"Oh, honestly, Ginny, couldn't you do that _elsewhere_?"

"Sorry, Mum!" said Ginny apologetically, taking the Quaffle from her mother and wiping it hastily clean with a dish towel lying on the counter. "I'm really sorry!"

"That's alright, Ginny, dear," sighed Mrs. Weasley warily, taking out her wand and waving it. The cake repaired itself. "Nothing a simple spell can't fix. But _do_ be careful in the future."

"Sorry, Mum," said Ginny once more, turning red and taking up a seat next to Harry at the table and setting the Quaffle on the floor.

"Can't find a decent place to play around here," mumbled Ginny, propping her head on her hand. It's a mess outside and it's freezing, and in here there's always someone or something that could get hurt. Where _else_ am I supposed to practice if I want to keep on the team!"

"Hogwarts definitely opening again, then?" asked Harry.

"Oh, yes. It was in the papers that McGonagall was determined it would open. She's not sure when, though." said Mrs. Weasley from the counter.

"I wonder if you could even play Quidditch in conditions like this," said Ron, peering out the window where the snow was no more than a blur of white. "I mean, if it keeps up."

"You could never have stopped Wood," said Harry, remembering the heavily built Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood from Harry's first through third year.

"Yeah, but Wood's not Captain anymore, is he?" said Ginny. "It'll be hard to beat Demelza this year. Robins, remember? She got really good near the end of the year."

"Now, I'm sure Harry will give you a fair chance," said Mrs. Weasley, now writing the words, 'Happy 17th Birthday, Harry!' in thick red icing on the cake with her wand. The others traded guilty glances. Harry had been wondering if Ron told Mrs. Weasley that they wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts for their seventh year. Ginny, of course, knew, and covered up for the awkward silence with an unsure, "Yeah." It apparently did the trick, because Mrs. Weasley didn't seemed too concerned.

"Molly!" a sudden airy voice called from upstairs.

"Oh what _now_?" whispered Mrs. Weasley, throwing down her wand and messing up the 'H' in 'Harry'.

"Molly!" the voice called again.

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Weasley called kindly up the stairs, but Harry noticed the deep bitterness in her voice. Harry heard someone coming down the stairs. Everyone listened intently.

"I 'eard yelling down 'ere."

"It was just me, dear, don't worry about a thing."

"Ees 'e 'ere yet?"

"Gabrielle." grumbled Ron, Hermione and Ginny simultaneously under their breaths.

"Yes, dear, he's in the kitchen."

There was an excited squealing from the landing. Harry heard someone lightly running closer and closer. Mrs. Weasley walked back into the kitchen to resume her cake decorating, rolling her eyes. Right behind her came skipping a young girl, probably around ten years old. She had silvery-blonde hair and her eyes were a pure crystal blue. She smiled elatedly at Harry as soon as she saw him. Her pearly-white teeth were perfectly strait. To be honest, she looked just like her older sister, yet smaller and younger.

"'Arry!" she called, swiftly running to Harry and hugging him. Ginny pretended to gag behind the small girls' back.

"Hi, Gabrielle." Harry said kindly as she let go of him. Harry noticed that she'd grown a lot in the past two-and-a-half years and was secretly thankful that she was the size she was when he had to pull her from the lake at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year. She squealed excitedly again and Ron cringed.

"I 'ave been waiting to meet you again for a _vairy _long time!"

"I'm sure," said Harry, uncertain of what else he was to say to this ten-year-old. She cast her eyes around at all the decorations.

"Oh, eez eet your birthday?"

"Two days ago, yeah." answered Harry.

"What do _you_ theenk of zis house?" asked Gabrielle, changing the subject completely and holding out her hands as if she were expecting rain.

"I like it here." answered Harry truthfully. "Do you?" he added. Ron elbowed Harry in the side and shook his head warningly.

"Eet eez vairy drafty. And vairy small. We can all barely feet in 'ere."

Mrs. Weasley looked as if she was working hard to restrain herself from throwing Harry's cake at Gabrielle. Her hands were shaking and her face was turning red with effort.

"But my seester 'as taken a liking to eet, so I suppose I will too, eventually." concluded Gabrielle, nodding her majestic head.

"How is Fleur?" asked Harry. Gabrielle made a face.

"She eez vairy annoying at times. Bill zis and Bill zat. Eet is getting annoying!" she stamped her foot on the ground.

"Imagine that." said Ginny, not taking her eyes of a piece of confetti that lay on the table. Then she mumbled, "You two must be related." However, Gabrielle didn't seem to have noticed.

Several hours passed in which Gabrielle decided to join the table and criticize everything that made Harry happy. He supposed she was just trying to make conversation, but at times she was more obnoxious than Fleur had been. He had never thought someone could be more annoying but apparently he was wrong.

There was a knocking at the door and Mrs. Weasley, who had just finished laying out the finger foods, rushed to answer it. The sound of several voices carried into the kitchen as Mrs. Weasley greeted her guests and inviting them into the kitchen. Ex-Auror, Mad-Eye Moody, whose magical eye whizzed around (probably scanning all the rooms in the house). walked in. After him came Ron's twin brothers, Fred and George, who both brought an assortment of things from their joke shop as a birthday present to Harry. Several tall, dark people that Harry didn't know (Hermione told him that they were Fleur's second cousins who were due to arrive earlier that day) walked in quietly, lastly, and McGonagall, looking as sharp as ever.

Each greeted Harry with an air of relieved wonder, all of them having read the _Daily Prophet_. Mrs. Weasley pointed out the food on the tables. Everyone seemed grateful for it because they all stacked food on their plates and had to practice extreme caution as to not let any of it roll on the floor. Harry found himself caught in conversation with Moody, talking about what had happened at Privet Drive.

"… and when I got to the house, a Death Eater was walking out." finished Harry after Moody demanded to hear his story.

"Bloody Death Eaters," scowled Moody, causing his scars to fold on top of each other, making his face become quite shadowy in the candlelight. "I suppose you don't know who he was?"

"No."

"Well, so long as you weren't harmed. But if we could catch him soon, I'd rest easier. By the way," he added gruffly, reaching a gnarled hand into his pocket and pulling out a very large, bright yellow spinning top. Harry recognized it as a Sneakoscope larger than the one Harry owned. Moody dropped the top into Harry's outstretched hand. "I know you already have one, but this one's much more reliable. And I don't do birthday presents, me, but it never hurts to have something like that around at all times, so think of it as my way of saying 'watch out for yourself', Potter. Constant vigilance, that's what you need."

Harry grinned as he pocketed the Sneakoscope. It banged against his leg, but remained motionless.

"Thanks, Professor," he said. Moody smiled lightly, his scars stretching, but it meant all the same to Harry, who rarely saw him smile or make any kind of friendly gesture.

After a time, several of Fleur's side of the family wandered down the stairs to see what all the commotion was about. Many of them couldn't speak English, so food was being knocked all over the place with all the miming of requests and questions. Fleur's parents spoke a little English, though their accents were heavier than their daughters'. When they realized Harry was among the throng, they rushed eagerly over to him to introduce themselves. Fleur's mother looked very much like Fleur and Gabrielle. She had the same sheet of silvery hair and the same blue eyes but she was slightly taller and when Harry mentioned that he remembered her from when she came to visit Fleur at the Triwizard Tournament, she smiled. She was very beautiful and she wandered around the kitchen, arm-in-arm with her husband, who was taller than his wife, but with dark hair and eyes and a clean-shaven face.

When even more people came down the stairs into the already crowded room, Harry knew that Ginny was right-- he didn't know the Burrow could hold so many people. Mrs. Weasley spoke with Mrs. Delacour a little. She seemed to be on somewhat better terms with her than Gabrielle and Harry caught snippets of their conversations, most of which were regarding Bill and Fleur's wedding.

They sky outside grew dark and the flurry of snow became invisible when Mrs. Weasley placed an engorgement charm on the birthday cake so everyone could have a piece. She cut it carefully and handed Harry the first plate. Fred and George sang 'Happy Birthday' over and over again and then started doing it in rounds. Hermione, Ron and Ginny joined in after a while, laughing at the twins and even some of Fleur's family started singing very softly and uncomfortably. One of her uncles, drunk from an aged bottle of Firewhisky, began to sing his own version of 'Happy Birthday' which was rather loud, rude, sung half in French to someone called 'Vincent' instead of Harry.

Though the party had a lot of people at it, Harry noticed that three people were missing; Mr. Weasley, Bill and Fleur. When he asked Mrs. Weasley where they were, she said, "Arthur and Bill are still sleeping. They were both up for forty-eight hours straight. And I think Fleur is upstairs writing her vows."

After a while, the party moved all throughout the house and people stood, talking with each other or watching the fire in the fireplace. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the only ones left at the kitchen table, each clutching a bottle of Butterbeer.

"So," whispered Hermione, loud enough so she could be heard above everyone else around them, "how've you been doing, Harry?"

Hermione didn't need to say it; her eyes gave it away that she was not talking about his general health, but how he'd been coping with the death of Dumbledore over the summer. Harry leaned his head in closer so he couldn't be overheard by anyone close by . Ron and Hermione did the same.

"I've been fine," he lied. He didn't want to worry his friends. "It's just… hard, you know?"

Hermione nodded knowingly.

"It's been hard on us, too. And the Order. I've only been at the Burrow for a week and you don't know how many members I've seen come in to complain about how difficult it is to be doing whatever they're doing."

"And before that," whispered Ron, "I've seen each Order member here at least ten times over the summer."

"I would expect that." answered Harry. "Everyone's probably losing heart because they know Dumbledore's not here to help anymore…" he trailed off and Hermione gave him a concerned look.

"When do you want to leave?" she asked, her voice getting even quieter.

Harry paused. He'd been hoping that over the summer, his friends might have changed their minds about coming with him. But he remembered his promise to himself; to let them do what they thought was right for themselves.

"After Bill and Fleur's wedding," he said. Then he turned to Ron, "When is it?"

"Two weeks," answered Ron, popping a grape in his mouth. "We also need to take our Apparation Test as well."

"You'll have plenty of time to study, then," said Hermione pointedly. "I'll help you. So, in two weeks if we can manage it?"

"Three, tops." said Harry. "I want to go before letters for Hogwarts come. That way Ron's mum won't have to waste a trip to Diagon Alley."

"So we're here for three weeks, then." whispered Hermione as if finalizing their plans.

"And after that," said Harry darkly, "Who knows what'll happen?"

OoOoOoO

Another chapter… complete! Hope y'all liked it. I felt it rambled too much, but I couldn't narrow it down in any way. Ah well. It didn't take as long to post as I thought. The next chapter might be a bit, depending on whether I get some more chapters written by next weekend. Hopefully, though! I started a new trimester at school, and the classes are what you would call a pushover compared to last trimester's classes!

I've been very busy with my flute. For those who don't know, I'm a flute player. I have recently been appointed the position as one of the two flute section leaders for our band (very proud!) and Secretary for Band Council. I'm going to go for Band President next year ("My fellow Band-goers…"). I was asked to play first flute in one of my friend's concerts and have spent the last three or four weeks practicing. It went over very nicely. I was really nervous before I went on stage, but once I was up there, it felt like the place to be. Now I'm trying out for pit for our Spring musical and am going to go to the District Solo Competition in February, so I'll be VERY busy with that. I'm playing a Danzi piece. For those people who are not music-savvy, his parts are very difficult to master. I hope I make it to State! Wish me luck!

Talk to y'all later!

Please review.

May broomsticks be in your dreams!

Luv,

Legolas-gurl88

LG

**Next chapter**: Harry and Ron go for their Apparation licenses!


	6. Apparation Tests

**Title: **Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul

**Author: **Legolas-gurl88

**Disclaimer: **It's all J.K. Rowling!

OoOoOoO

**6. Apparation Tests**

Everyone slept in the next morning and it was nearing noon when Harry woke up due to a loud thud against the window of Ron's room. Looking around, he realized that he was alone; he'd been sharing the room with Ron, four of Fleur's teenage cousins and Fred and George, who had closed shop due to weather ("And no one's going out anymore," Fred had explained). There was another thud against the window and Harry blinked at it. He received a huge shock.

It wasn't snowing anymore. Hastily, he got out of bed, put his glasses on, and walked to the window. He pushed it open, which was difficult due to the amount of ice that had layered on and looked down. Ron looked up at him from outside, grinning.

"'Morning!" he called, waving a gloved hand.

"'Morning," Harry called back.

"C'mon down. There's going to be a snowball fight. It's me, Fred and Ginny against you, George and Hermione. They're all getting ready."

"Right," answered Harry, withdrawing his head into the warm house and he dressed rather quickly into extremely warm clothes. He jumped down the stairs and only ceased when he heard angry shouts in French from a room halfway down. At the landing, he caught a glimpse of Mrs. Weasley trying desperately to cook food for twenty-seven people. He had to step over several of Fleur's family who were sleeping on the floors, couches, chairs, and anywhere else they could find that was remotely comfortable. The drunk uncle was snoring rather loudly and kept nudging a woman's head with his foot. Her eyes were squinted as if she were trying to ignore it.

"Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley whispered as he walked through the kitchen. She was desperately trying to beat some eggs for several more disgruntled people sitting impatiently at the table. "Good morning! I was just going to come wake you. Do you want something to eat?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley." whispered Harry. "I'm going to go outside for a bit with Ron."

"It's just as well, don't you think?" Mrs. Weasley said, tipping the eggs into the frying pan and looking extremely tired. "Honestly, I'm glad we only invited Fleur's side of the family to stay with us. I was _going_ to invite our side as well, but it was just too many people. They'll all be showing up before the wedding instead."

Harry nodded and turned to go out the door. Just before the door closed, he heard an angry call from one extremely tall, skinny man.

"What eez taking so long? We are 'ungry enough as eet eez!"

Harry shook his head and went to meet Ron, trudging along in the snow.

"'Bout time you woke up." said Ron, grinning.

"I can't believe it stopped snowing though," said Harry, looking up at the cloudy sky.

"Yeah," said Ron, looking up too. "Mum doesn't suppose it'll last long, seeing how dark those clouds over there are. So we'd better enjoy it while it's nice."

"And you'd better enjoy your buttocks, Ron, while they're still attached to your end." came a laughing voice. Harry turned and saw Fred and George walking towards them.

"You're on, George." said Ron. "You'll be eating your words."

"I'd rather be eating words than snow." came George's retort. "DUCK!" He threw an extremely large snowball strait at Ron. It hit him squarely in the face, sending Ron backwards. He sat up, sputtering and yelling obscene words at George. Finally his anger died down enough for him to get up and form a large snowball to send strait back at his older brother.

Ginny and Hermione joined them once they made it out of the house and soon, everyone was covered from head to foot in snow. They're yells carried into the house and attracted some of Fleur's younger family members outside. Most of them watched, but some joined in, throwing snowballs at each other.

A couple hours of nonstop snowball fights passed until everyone's stomachs decided for them that it was time to go inside.

Harry's stomach gave a large growl as he trudged back into the warm house with Ron and Hermione at his sides. They were all out of breath from laughing and playing so hard. After they went back up to their rooms to change, Harry, Ron and Hermione went back downstairs to get something to eat. Mrs. Weasley was there, already waiting with heated leftover soup from the day before. It tasted just as good. Harry looked over at the table and saw Mr. Weasley sitting at the table, reading the _Daily Prophet_, and Bill, sitting with Fleur.

Bill looked better than when Harry had last seen him. His cuts had healed, but they left long, deep scars running every which way across his face, making him look somewhat like a younger Mad-Eye Moody. He was hardly recognizable and if it weren't for his long red hair and fanged earring, Harry might not have known it was him at all. But when Bill looked up and grinned, Harry could clearly see the old Bill shining through his eyes. Ginny was right, his face had changed, but his kindness hadn't and that was good enough for anyone.

Mr. Weasley noticed Bill looking over his shoulder and turned to see who it was. He was obviously expecting Fleur, or someone related to her, because when he saw Harry, a short look of surprise crossed his face before he beamed.

"_Harry_!" he said, standing up and shaking Harry's hand that wasn't holding the bowl of soup. "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Weasley," answered Harry. Mr. Weasley invited him to sit at the table. Ron and Hermione sat across from him.

"I'm really glad you're alright," said Mr. Weasley. "You gave us quite a scare, there."

"Yeah…" said Harry, looking down at the table. "About that… I'm really sorry to put you through all that trouble."

"Oh don't worry about that, Harry," said Bill from Harry's left. Harry looked at him. Bill was smiling as he leaned across the table to take the newspaper from his father. "What's done is done and you're safe. And if I know you, you left because it seemed like the only thing to do, am I right?"

"Er-- yeah," said Harry sheepishly.

Mr. Weasley nodded, agreeing with Bill's statement. "Well, then, as long as you were doing what you thought was right, don't fuss over it. We're just happy you're okay."

"Thanks, though, Mr. Weasley," said Harry. Mr. Weasley nodded and they both began to eat their soup. There was a soft pattering that began outside. Harry looked up to see that, true to Ron's prediction, it was beginning to snow again, covering up the footprints left over from their snowball fight. Mr. Weasley sighed and sat back in his chair.

"Er-- Mr. Weasley?" asked Harry.

"Yes, Harry?" said Mr. Weasley, looking tired all of a sudden.

"Why _does_ it keep snowing this time of year? I mean, it's just become August."

"That's an excellent question, actually." said Mr. Weasley, taking his glasses off and rubbing them clean. Only when he replaced them on the bridge of his nose did he continue speaking. "You see, Harry, the weather is somewhat affected by magic. Not by wizards-- weather's too powerful for us to control-- but magic in general. And when panic starts to arouse the Wizarding World, the weather goes crazy and starts doing random things."

"So it's because Voldemort's back?" Hermione asked. Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Ron flinched, but otherwise overlooked the fact that she'd said Voldemort's name.

"Well… normally, it sort of builds up and lets go at a certain event," answered Mr. Weasley.

"What was that for this time?" Ron asked.

"Think back, Ron," said Bill, setting the newspaper down. "Do you remember what was in the news the day it started to snow?"

"No," answered Ron, nonplussed. Harry began thinking. He couldn't remember every _Daily Prophet_ that he'd received, but he tried as hard as he could to remember.

"Wasn't it… the Death Eaters escaping from Azkaban?" he asked tentatively.

"Bingo." said Mr. Weasley. "Well, of course, no one's felt entirely safe since You-Know-Who returned, and the Wizarding Community was threatening to collapse any day, but that event was the straw that broke the camel's back. Now that You-Know-Who is back to power, his minions have all returned to him, and Dumbledore's gone there's, the anxiety level is really affecting the balance of magic."

"I bet everyone's starting to wish they'd listened to me and Dumbledore earlier now that all this is happening." said Harry bitterly. Mr. Weasley smiled sadly and put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"So Azkaban's completely empty now?" asked Hermione.

"No," Bill said. "Only the Death Eaters are gone. But seeing how the Dementors are gone as well, Azkaban is something of a joke. No one's afraid of it anymore. Prisoners have been coming back to their senses and finding ways to escape anyway. Complete pandemonium in the Wizarding World, I'll tell you that."

"Will it ever stop snowing?" asked Harry. Mr. Weasley removed his hand from Harry's shoulder.

"I don't know. If the Wizarding World gets back on it's feet, there's a possibility. Or things could get worse and it'll stop snowing and we'll have daily hurricanes, say. Personally, I'd rather take the snow."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Bill all nodded in agreement.

"Oh, before I forget, Harry, Ron," said Mr. Weasley. He took a sip of his steaming coffee, "I've set a date for your Apparation Tests."

"Excellent." said Ron. "When are they, Dad?"

"A week from now. Ron's is at one o'clock, Harry's is at one-thirty." answered Mr. Weasley. "But I have a meeting then, so Bill'll, be taking you."

"I've noticed you brought down the security." said Ron.

"No one else _wanted_ to take you, Ron." said Bill. "Nah, I'm kidding. We figured you two are trained enough to know what to do if an emergency comes up. I'm just there for… moral support."

"Cheers, Bill." said Ron. He turned to Harry. "What'd'you reckon? Should we start studying now, or later?"

Hermione looked excited.

"Oh, I've got some books you two could read through about techniques of Apparating and how to concentrate more on your destination."

"Oh, come _on_, Hermione, I was joking!" said Ron, looking mortified at the idea of work over the summer. Hermione gave him a look of annoyance. "Really, me and Harry are as good as gold on this stuff."

"How can you be so sure, Ron?" said Hermione coldly. "How can you be sure that you're not going to splinch yourself during your test _again_?"

"Thanks for the support, Hermione." said Ron. "Come off it, it was only half an eyebrow, I've got it down now. And Harry's already Apparated loads of times, he's fine."

"Calm down, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley lazily as Hermione tried to retort. "If they want to procrastinate, it's their choice."

"We're not _procrastinating_." said Ron indignantly, staring at his father as if he'd been extremely let down. "We've already gone through all the procedures and stuff."

"And if that's fine with you, it's fine with me."

"Come on, Ron," said Harry, trying to distract Ron from his father, "let's go up to your room… how about a game of chess?"

"Yeah." said Ron. "Hermione, you coming?"

"I think I'll help your mother." said Hermione, getting up and walking to Mrs. Weasley, who was already starting to cook dinner.

"Suit yourself," Ron said after her, shrugging. But when they walked out of the kitchen, he muttered to Harry, "She just doesn't want to talk to us now that we've insulted her ways of life. _Studying_. We already know how to do it. It's just a matter of concentration."

"Right." said Harry, not really thinking. "Look, what do they make you do in the test?"

Ron told him. It sounded pretty simple. They'd start off making him Apparate from one hoop to the other, then back again. Then, he would have to lead the instructor through Side-Apparation. After that, they'd make him Apparate to a random place in England and then go back.

"That's when I failed, at the last part," said Ron thoughtfully, "Come to think of it, I wonder if my eyebrow is still in London."

Over the course of the next week, Fleur's family got rowdier and rowdier. They were all extremely grumpy at being made to live so close for so long. Harry rarely saw Mrs. Weasley out of the kitchen. Fleur's family demanded their meals at different intervals than each other, so as soon as she was done feeding everyone for breakfast, she had to start on lunch. And as soon as lunch was over with, she had to start planning dinner. There were great bags under her eyes and Harry and the others took sympathy on her and offered to help cook and clean.

On the third day Harry was at the Burrow, Fleur made herself present.

"'Ow are you doing, 'Arry?" she asked, kissing him twice on either cheek.

"Fine. How're you?" asked Harry.

"Busy." answered Fleur with a sigh. "I 'ave to rewrite my vows, make sure my dress is perfect and 'elp to try and find a place for ze ceremony. We were going to do eet outside, but ze wezzer seemply won't call for eet."

Harry could tell immediately that Mrs. Weasley and Fleur had made amends by the way they were talking to each other. Fleur even went as far as to scold some of her family for making her mother-in-law work so hard. After that, most of her family went around, brooding in silence which rather suited everyone.

On the last day before Harry and Ron's Apparation Tests, war began to wage between Fleur's family and the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley threw down her whisk and locked herself in her room after several of Fleur's older cousins came out of moping and nagged that her house was a pigsty and that she should clean it immediately. She refused to come out that entire day, which caused all of Fleur's family to start moaning with hunger. They begged Bill to get his mother to cook, but he put his foot down and told them to be kinder to her. The Delacours were so upset that they stopped talking to Bill. It was unusually quiet for the rest of the day.

The next morning, Harry and Ron woke up late again. They went down and had lunch, because Mrs. Weasley had already begun serving it. She looked cheerful once more and the bags under her eyes had gone down slightly.

"Are you two prepared for your tests?" asked Mrs. Weasley as she slid hot pork chops onto Harry's plate.

"Yeah," said Harry and Ron together. Harry stared down at his food. He was beginning to feel the slight prickle of nervousness. Otherwise, he felt pretty confident. He'd Apparated before, hadn't he? Ron was looking a little worse for wear. His face was the shade of green it normally was before a Quidditch match.

"You'll both do fine. Now, you have your wands? Good." she said as Harry and Ron both pulled their wands out of their pockets to show her. "You can both do Patronuses? Yes, I know you can, Harry… Ron?"

Ron nodded.

"Now, if something goes wrong send a Patronus to us and we'll come to get you." Mrs. Weasley continued, looking a little nervous herself.

"Is something going to go wrong?" asked Harry.

"There's a chance nothing will happen, but I feel safer knowing you two know what to do in case of an emergency."

"Bill's gonna be there." Ron pointed out.

"He's just one man, Ron." said Mrs. Weasley, turning to put the pan she was holding into the sink. "And it's nearing the full moon, so he's not up to his normal strength. Keep a watchful eye. _Both _of you. And--" she said, turning back to look at them again, "--keep watch over each other."

"You'd think we were two, the way she talks to us," mumbled Ron an hour later, fastening his cloak around his neck as Harry did the same beside him. "_Watch out for yourselves_… it's like she thinks that as soon as we're out of her sight, we're going to act like complete idiots."

Harry grunted.

"Okay, you two," said Bill, walking down the stairs, putting his own cloak over his shoulders, "you ready?"

"Yeah." said Harry and Ron together.

"Just a moment, Bill." said Mr. Weasley, coming down the stairs after Bill. "I want a quick word with Harry."

"Yeah, Mr. Weasley?" asked Harry as Ron and Bill walked into the kitchen to say goodbye to their mother. Mr. Weasley mopped the bald spot on the top of his head.

"I just wanted to warn you-- that day you Apparated to Headquarters without a license will not be forgotten by the Apparation Administration. They keep tabs on people who've Apparated Illegally and how many times they've done it. Right now, you're up to two."

"But Dumbledore was with me the first time! I thought they would overlook that!" said Harry indignantly. Mr. Weasley nodded understandingly.

"They know that Dumbledore was with you, but they also know that _you_ were the one that used your powers to Apparate. Dumbledore was merely Side-Apparating, so you are the one held responsible. They're going to probably ask you a few questions about that and the time you Apparated to Headquarters. So be warned, they might try to put your record against you. I've got to go. Good luck."

Harry gaped at Mr. Weasley, his stomach feeling unusually empty. Mr. Weasley passed Ron and Bill at the threshold leading to the kitchen. He could hear Mrs. Weasley talking to her husband quietly. Ron and Bill returned to Harry's side.

"How're we getting there?" asked Ron.

"Side Apparation." said Bill.

"But why can't we just Floo there? At least it's warmer." said Ron.

There was a slightly awkward pause in which Bill looked at his youngest brother.

"I'll make sure to tell you later. Right now, we have to cross the Protection Line outside." said Bill. He walked to the door, Harry and Ron following in his wake. "Brace yourselves." he said, grasping the handle to the front door. Then, he pushed hard and the door cracked open. Harry heard ice shatter as warm air flew out into the howling winds.

The walk out past the Protection Line was almost as miserable as when Harry walked to the Burrow with Lupin. The only differences were that Harry was now wearing his cloak, which Mrs. Weasley had previously warmed by the fire and he was standing between Bill and Ron. Their shoulders bumped against his own, warming him. He swore he could hear Ron's teeth chattering over the blizzard that was taking place outside. Just as Harry was wondering how much longer they would have to force their way through the snow when Bill stopped and looked over at them.

"Take my arms!" he yelled over the wind. His long scars looked deeper in the shadow that had been cast over his face by the clouds. Harry and Ron each grabbed one of his arms. "On the count of three, we'll all turn, right?" Harry nodded and he saw Ron do the same on Bill's other side. Then, Harry closed his eyes and listened to Bill's voice. "One… two… _three_!"

Harry felt the air around him begin to compress, but it was beginning to feel slightly more comfortable than it had ever before. Only when the smell of overripe peaches clouded his senses did he know they had Apparated. He opened his eyes and looked at Bill, who appeared to have been thrown a bit by Side Apparating two people instead of one. He then stared strait in front of him and found a short, dumpy witch standing before him with a wide smile and scruffy light-brown hair.

"Welcome to the Apparation Administration Office," she said, her large eyes widening. She gazed down at her clipboard. "Let me see… Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, I presume?"

Harry and Rod nodded.

"Mr. Weasley, you have already taken the test once, yes? However, you took it at a different administrative office, so _we_ do not hold any information about you. You have half-an-hour before your test, so you have just enough time to fill this out." she handed him a clipboard and a self-inking quill. "You can sit down over there," she pointed to the waiting chairs. Ron walked silently to the chairs and dropped into one. He looked through all the papers he was required to fill out. He seemed to be fighting back the urge to throw up.

"Now, Mr. Potter." said the woman, turning to look up at Harry. "My name is Helga Poloff, Head of the Apparation Administration Office in Lower Britain. Pleased to make your acquaintance." She held out a small hand for Harry to shake. "However, before I have you fill out your own information, I must speak with you about some pressing matters. You, sir, can make yourself comfortable anywhere." she added, looking up at Bill. She gave a small shiver of fear at the appearance of his face, but he merely smiled kindly at her and went to sit next to his brother.

"Follow me, Mr. Potter, if you will, please." she said. She lead him into a separate room filled with portraits of what appeared to be the inventors of Apparation and certain famous people who used it all throughout history. In the middle of the room sat a desk. Helga made herself comfortable on the other side of the desk before she realized Harry was still standing at the door.

"You may sit if you wish, Mr. Potter." she said, pointing to the chair in front of the desk. Reluctantly, Harry made his way to the chair. He silently prayed that Helga didn't take off any points from him because of his record. "Now, I'm sure you would like to join your friend, but the Minister wished for me to talk to you personally." she said kindly. "On July thirty-first, the Ministry and Apparation Administration Office received word that you Apparated yourself to Grimmauld Place, London, completely alone, and completely aware of your actions. Is this true?"

"Yes," said Harry. "But--"

"And a couple of months ago, you-- you Apparated with Al-Albus Dumbledore at your side?" she stuttered sadly at reading Dumbledore's name.

"Yes," said Harry again. Then, he added desperately, "But he was dying. There was nothing else I could do."

"Quite understandable, Mr. Potter." said Helga, wiping a tear from her eye. "I have _personally_ decided to not press charges against you for that particular time, for it was an emergency. But the other time, I'm afraid we must take action for that."

Harry's heart sank.

"But-- but I was running away because there were Death Eaters by where I lived. And I didn't have anywhere else to go, so I Apparated."

Helga surveyed him for a moment in which time Harry subconsciously held his breath. Finally, Helga nodded.

"That, too, would count as an emergency. You had full authority to Apparate. I won't take any points off of your overall test score, but be warned-- the Ministry of Magic would be less willing to listen to stories of Death Eaters nowadays, since everyone has a sob story. _Do_ try to stay out of trouble."

"Thanks," said Harry, feeling quite relieved. Helga nodded again and handed him his own clipboard and self-inking quill.

"Take that out and fill in the questions. Tell Mr. Weasley that once he's finished filling his questions, his Apparation Instructor will be seated at table two. Yours will be at table seven."

"Thanks a lot," said Harry again. He shook Helga's hand and walked out into the waiting room, where a magical radio had suddenly been turned on and was playing songs from WWN (Wireless Wizarding Network).

Harry crossed the room and sat on Ron's other side.

"These questions are barking mad." said Ron, shaking his head in disbelief at the clipboard. "We didn't have to answer these ones in the Administrative Office in Northern Britain.

"What questions are they?" asked Harry, pulling out the quill and sucking on the tip of the feather out of habit.

"Well, you have the normal ones, like your age, your birth date, your height, hair color, eye color, but then they have ridiculous ones near the end. Question number seventeen: What is your favorite color? Number nineteen: What is your favorite alcoholic beverage? Number twenty-two: What do you enjoy doing in your spare time? Number twenty-three: Who, in your opinion, is the greatest magical person of all time? Well, that one's easy." said Ron, taking his quill and scribbling under the question. "Ronald… Weasley… there. But the rest of them are like walking back into a Gilderoy Lockhart nightmare."

Harry snorted and looked down at his own clipboard. Silently, he and Ron scribbled for a few minutes as Bill watched them, not saying a word.

"Done," said Ron, setting his quill on top of the clipboard.

"Table number two, then," said Harry distractedly, writing 'Evans' under the question, 'What is your mother's maiden name?'

"What?"

"Table two." said Harry. "That's your instructor."

"Oh, okay." said Ron, standing up. "Blimey, bloke looks like he needs a good long sleep." Harry looked up and stared at Ron's instructor. He was completely bald, but extremely wrinkled and very large around the waist. His small eyes were drooping as if he were just about to fall asleep.

"Good luck." said Harry as Ron passed him.

"You have about half-an-hour, Harry," said Bill, looking at his watch. "You feel alright?"

"Yeah." said Harry. His heart was beginning to pound, causing the pain in his chest to intensify as it hadn't since his birthday. "Just nervous." Bill smiled, his scarred features creasing grotesquely, but Harry returned the gesture.

"You'll do fine, you've already Apparated loads of times properly."

"Yeah, but those times, I didn't have someone following me with a clipboard, did I?" said Harry, grinning. He finished his last question and set his quill down as Ron and his instructor went through the door behind the instructor's desk. Ron's face was tinged green once more. A quarter of an hour passed and Harry's hands began shaking slightly due to nerves as he listened to the WWN playing a popular Weird Sister's number. Several more minutes passed and Bill's eyes began to fall. Finally, it was one-thirty. Harry stood up and walked to table seven.

At the table sat a woman who looked in her mid-twenties. She was very pretty, with blonde hair tied up into a bun. She smiled at Harry.

"Hello," she said politely, shaking Harry's hand, "I'm Instructor Quinn. Before I get started, may I see your forms?" Harry handed her his clipboard and she shuffled through the questions, mumbling under her breath. Finally, after what seemed forever, he looked up, smiling. "Everything seems to be in order. Now, if you'd follow me back, Mr. Potter," she said, standing up and leading Harry through the door behind her desk. Harry half-expected to see Ron in the room, but it was completely deserted except for the torches on the walls, and several large, wooden rings in a pile in the corner.

Instructor Quinn took her wand out and charmed two of the wooden rings to fly out of the pile and rest about twenty feet apart from each other.

"Now, the first thing I want you to do is Apparate into that hoop, there," she pointed to the one closest to Harry. "Once you're there. Wait a moment, then Apparate to the one across the room. That's simple, isn't it?"

Harry nodded.

"Whenever you're ready, Mr. Potter." she said, flicking her wand. A clipboard and self-inking quill appeared out of nowhere and she held them at the ready. Harry closed his eyes and tried to concentrate only on where he needed to go, but the flamed torches were crackling loudly and it was hard for him to concentrate. He felt perspiration form on his forehead. Then, he turned.

The feeling of compressed air only lasted for an instant until Harry felt he could breath again. Though he was almost afraid to open his eyes, he did so anyway and, to his delight, found himself standing in the hoop Instructor Quinn had told him to Apparate to. He was extremely thrilled that he hadn't messed up that he nearly forgot he had to Apparate to the next hoop. With a jolt, he closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on the second one. Again, he turned. When he opened his eyes, he was in the middle of the wooden hoop.

"Very good, Mr. Potter." said Instructor Quinn, scribbling on the clipboard and giving him a friendly smile. "Now, let's continue."

The rest of the Apparation Test was simple after Harry's nerves had gone down slightly. Theresa seemed to be trying to find where Harry's weakest points were and making them better, or challenging him to improve something that he'd done wrong.

"That was much better, Mr. Potter, much better than last time." said Instructor Quinn, scribbling away at the clipboard again. "Full marks on concentration. Now, the last part of the test is the most difficult, but I have no doubt you can do it. I'm going to have you Apparate to… London. Yes, that would be best. _But_," she said loudly, "I'm going to Side-Apparate with you. Right?"

"Right," said Harry. Instructor Quinn walked up to Harry and wrapped her long fingers around his forearm.

"Now, I'm not going to put any of my powers into helping you. It's all up to you to make sure we both get there without splinching, do you understand?"

"Yeah." said Harry.

"Then I'm ready when you are." she said in a bored voice that clearly said she was extremely tired of her job. Harry, however, closed his eyes and concentrated harder than ever on London with it's tall buildings and many cars. He was very aware of Theresa's breathing in his ear and it made him more nervous. He hoped this would turn out alright. Finally, Harry turned and Theresa followed suit. Harry felt the sensation of being crammed through a barrel. He couldn't breathe. This couldn't be right. He thought his was getting used to Apparating.

A car honked loudly and Harry jumped, realizing he could breathe again. He also realized it was extremely cold. Opening his eyes, he looked around and saw that he had Apparated to the exact alleyway he'd landed in the day he ran away from the Dursley's. He looked over at Instructor Quinn and was relieved to see that she was all there. She did look winded.

"That was very good, Mr. Potter," she gasped.

"You alright?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes. I just-- I think you just need a bit more practice with Side-Apparition. Did you notice the pressure?"

"Yeah. Sorry." mumbled Harry.

"No, it wasn't your fault. For a while, that will happen if you are trying to move anything more than your own weight, it's completely normal for a beginner."

"Alright." said Harry.

"Now, the last thing I'll have you do is Apparate us both back to the practice room and you'll be free to go."

"I passed?" Harry asked, stunned.

"You passed," grinned Instructor Quinn. "Not many people your age pass on their first try. Most of the time they splinch themselves. You did wonderfully."

A couple of seconds later, Harry and Instructor Quinn arrived back at the practice room and Instructor Quinn wrote up her report on Harry's Apparating skills.

"I'll say it again, Mr. Potter, you did a wonderful job. And now, you're entered into our Apparation Code, so you can Apparate anywhere you want legally. You're dismissed."

"Thanks," said Harry as he walked out of the practice room. As he walked through the door, he saw Ron rushing over to him, looking extremely pleased.

"I passed!" he said excitedly.

"Brilliant, me too." said Harry, grinning.

"Congratulations, you two." said Bill. "We should go home now, Mum'll be wanting to hear the good news." With that, he Dissaparated with a small _pop_.

Harry and Ron grinned once more to each other and closed their eyes. They turned in unison and disappeared.

OoOoOoO

Kinda a slow chapter, but I promise the next one is more action packed… sort of. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

I'm sorry for taking so long to post. For those who weren't keeping an eye on my bio page (which, I will remind everyone, I update when I'm taking forever to post), it's because my computer died and we completely had to wipe it. Then, my mom had to set it up, but it took forever, 'cause it's really slow, now. And I've found that it doesn't let me on many fanfiction websites! I'm kind of angry about that, but what can you do?

Just so you guys can know, I've **added a new forum** just for you to come ask me questions, or give me comments or concerns! Just keep it polite and PG!

Just as a warning, updates will be a little less frequent now that I'm closing in on the ten chapters that I had previously written. As you've heard before, I'm really busy music-wise and have less time to write. Also, I'm beginning to plot and write my own book, which, if it's good enough when I'm done, I can hopefully publish. I'm really excited, but I'm taking all my energy into working on that at the moment. I will NOT stop writing this, but it'll be a little lower on my to-do list than before. Sorry!

Don't forget to review!

May broomsticks be in your dreams!

Luv,

Legolas-gurl88

LG

**Next chapter: **Harry's safety is threatened.


	7. The Protection Line

**Title: **Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul

**Author: **Legolas-gurl88

**Disclaimer: **It's all J.K.

OoOoOoO

**7. The Protection Line**

"Oh, Ron, that's _wonderful_ news!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked, grabbing her youngest son and crushing him in a tight hug. He, Harry and Bill had just arrived back at the Burrow and Ron had just told Mrs. Weasley that he passed.

"_Mum_!" said Ron in a muffled voice as he tried to pry himself free of his mother. When she obliged to let him go, she turned to Harry and gave him an equally strong hug.

"Congratulations, Harry, dear." she said. "I'm so proud of you both! You must be hungry, can I fix you anything?"

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley, thanks." said Harry.

"Mum, where's Hermione?" asked Ron casually.

"Upstairs with Ginny." said Mrs. Weasley, shaking her head and sounding thoroughly exhausted. "Crookshanks had a bit of a trauma."

"What happened?" asked Harry, happiness causing his chest to swell at the thought that the Apparation tests were a thing of the past.

"A couple of Fleur's youngest cousins thought it would be funny to stick him in the attic with the ghoul. Of course, the ghoul doesn't like visitors and he practically frightened the poor creature to death. Hermione and Ginny are trying to calm him right now."

"We should go help." said Harry. Knowing Crookshanks, Hermione and Ginny were bound to be scratched up enough.

"Yeah, we can tell them the good news." said Ron, grinning. Without another word, they left Mrs. Weasley to cook dinner and scaled the large number of scales to Ginny's room, just one door away from Ron's room. Ron knocked impatiently on the door and turned the knob once he heard Ginny's voice call, "Come in!"

Harry followed Ron into the room and stopped dead at the sight of it. If he could possibly put the look of Ginny's room into words, he would call it a disastrous war zone. Her floor was littered with broken objects and her bed covers had been tossed around. One of her little jewelry boxes that lay in shards on the ground was still tinkling dolefully. He saw Hermione and Ginny at the other side of the room, their backs to him, trying to coax a traumatized Crookshanks off of Ginny's now-ruined curtains.

"Er-- is this a bad time?" Ron asked, walking to Ginny's side and looking up at Crookshanks with a look that clearly said he was trying not to laugh.

"Help us get Crookshanks!" squealed Ginny, standing on tip-toes, but Crookshanks was just out of her reach.

"Here," said Ron, reaching up and detaching Crookshanks from the curtains. He handed the distressed cat to Hermione. Harry noticed that both of the girls sported several bad cuts on their hands, arms, and faces.

"Thank you," said Hermione gratefully and she walked to Ginny's bed where Crookshanks' cat-carrier was sitting atop the bed covers and shut him away securely.

"Oh no," moaned Ginny, taking in the sight of her room. She knelt down by the destroyed jewelry box and picked up the remains sadly. "My Great-Aunt Muriel gave me this for my sixth birthday!" she said.

"I'm _really_ sorry, Ginny," said Hermione. She pulled out her wand. "Here," she flicked her wand and the jewelry box fixed itself. Ginny replaced it onto her dresser.

"You two can help me fix Ginny's room." said Hermione to Harry and Ron, pointing her wand at the torn curtains and the seams reattached, making the curtains look good as new. Harry pulled out his wand and began fixing Ginny's other mementos that were either shattered or (in the case of a singing birthday card) singing off-key. However, Ron stared at Hermione in disbelief.

"Aren't you even going to ask us how we did on our Apparation Tests?" he said disbelievingly.

"What?" said Hermione absentmindedly. Then, comprehension dawned on her face, "Oh! The Apparation Tests! How did you do?" She looked almost worried.

"Passed!" grinned Ron.

"Oh, Ron, that's wonderful! I knew you could do it, I really did. It was just a matter of concentration, you were barely off the last time, I knew you'd do much better this time..."

Ron looked pleased with himself.

"How did _you_ do, Harry?" asked Ginny, putting a stop to Hermione's babbling as she listened intently for Harry's answer.

"I passed." said Harry. Ginny threw her arms around Harry's neck and gave him a tight hug that could be easily matched with Mrs. Weasley's.

"Congratulations, Harry!" he heard Hermione say. "So after Bill and Fleur's wedding, we can leave any time--"

There was a knock at the door.

"C-come in!" Ginny said, letting go of Harry and standing by his side. Gabrielle walked in quietly, staring at the four of them and then at Crookshanks. Everyone exchanged looks of nervousness; had Gabrielle heard Hermione?

"Your muzzer said zat she wants you all to 'elp 'er with dinner." she said coldly to Ginny as though she knew Ginny had been hugging Harry. Then, her eyes narrowed as she looked at Hermione. "Where are you going?"

"Er-- what?" said Hermione weakly, putting on a false (and very unrealistic) look of innocence.

"You said zat after Bill and Fleur's wedding, you were going to leave."

"No I didn't. You must be imagining it." suggested Hermione. Gabrielle's eyes narrowed even more.

"Oh, eef I am imagining zees things, I suppose it would be alright eef I told Mrs. Weasley?"

"_No_!" Harry, Ron and Ginny all shouted in unison. Hermione rolled her eyes. Gabrielle smirked.

"Look-- er-- Gabrielle," said Hermione, walking forward and taking one of Gabrielle's hands in her own, "It's really important that Mrs. Weasley doesn't know about this. We would all really, _really_ appreciate it if you didn't tell her." Everyone nodded vigorously.

"I don't know," Gabrielle taunted, smiling slyly, "eef you are going to leave us, Mrs. Weasley would really like to know."

"Gabrielle," said Ginny, stepping forward, "_Please_ don't tell Mum. She would never understand."

"I won't tell 'er," said Gabrielle, "_eef_… you tell _me_ where you are going."

There was a long silence. It was Harry's turn to think fast.

"Gabrielle--"

"Yes, 'Arry?" Gabrielle said in a misty voice, turning eagerly to look up at him. He kneeled down to her height.

"Me, Ron and Hermione are planning to go… to, er, Hogwarts after your sister's wedding to, you know, see if we can help reconstruct it so it might be able to, erm, open earlier."

Ron nodded. Gabrielle continued smiling at Harry, whose heart began to return to it's normal speed. She looked convinced. But then, as though she could see into his mind, her smile vanished.

"I don't believe you." she said. With that, she turned to the door and ran down the stairs screaming at the top of her voice, "MRS. WEASLEY! MRS. WEASLEY!"

"Oy!" Ron yelled after her. Ginny reacted almost instantly and ran after Gabrielle. Harry could hear her bounding down the stairs, trying to catch up with Fleur's sister. For a fraction of a second, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood rooted to the spot, listening to Gabrielle's shrieks before they jerked into action and ran at the door. Just as they were halfway down the stairs, they heard Gabrielle's voice stop yelling suddenly and they kept thundering down the stairs. At the landing, they saw Gabrielle on the floor with Ginny on top of her, trying her best to keep Gabrielle's mouth covered.

It was too late.

"What is it, Gabrielle?" Harry heard Mrs. Weasley's voice say and she appeared at the door leading to the kitchen, "_Ginny_! Get off of her this instant!"

Ginny scrambled to her feet, panting heavily. Harry, who was in front of Ron and Hermione, walked to her and helped her stand. They watched Gabrielle stand, dusting herself off and trying her best to compose herself.

"_What_ has gotten in to you?" snapped Mrs. Weasley, her hair flying wildly about her head as she walked to Gabrielle. "You five sounded like a herd of Hippogriffs running down the stairs."

"Mrs. Weasley," said Gabrielle shrilly, pointing to Harry, Ron and Hermione, "Zey are going to leave!"

There was a moments' silence in which Mrs. Weasley's frowning face looked even sterner. She looked from Gabrielle to Ron and Hermione and finally rested on Harry.

"What are you talking about, dear?" she asked Gabrielle.

"I 'eard 'Ermione saying zat now zat Ron and 'Arry have zair Apparation Licenses, zey are going to leave."

"What she means is," said Ginny loudly before Mrs. Weasley could say anything, "Ron, Harry and Hermione were going to go to a Muggle store to see if they could get a wedding cake made for Bill and Fleur. It would save you the trouble."

"Zat's not what 'Arry said upstairs." said Gabrielle, looking at Harry as though she felt thoroughly betrayed by him. "'Arry said zat zey were going to 'Ogwarts!"

"Well of course zey-- they are," said Mrs. Weasley, catching herself mid-sentence, "When term starts, they're going to go back and finish their last year, isn't that right, you three?"

"Yeah," said Harry and Ron together and Hermione nodded quickly. Gabrielle scowled at them and stalked back up the stairs, her manicured fingers curling into fists and her silver-blonde hair swaying.

"Yes, well," said Mrs. Weasley, eyeing Gabrielle as though she were worried about the little girl's sanity, "Ginny and Hermione, I need you to set plates and napkins. Ron and Harry, forks, knives and spoons, please."

The four friends traded relieved glances before following Mrs. Weasley back into the kitchen.

All throughout dinner, Harry saw Gabrielle shoot him and the other glances that clearly said she was mad at them for getting away with whatever they were up to. She ate quickly and threw her dishes into the sink, then stormed upstairs to throw a loud tantrum.

"I feel kind of bad for ruining her plans," said Ron mockingly as they passed her door after dinner, hearing her screaming into her pillow as they climbed the stairs again.

"Don't you dare feel sorry," said Hermione, "that was such a close call. _Why_ she did that, I don't know. I thought once Harry asked her to stay quiet, she would."

"My excuse was just as bad as yours, Hermione." said Harry. "We weren't very good at making it sound authentic."

"I'm just glad Mrs. Weasley didn't believe her." said Hermione. "Can you imagine spending another week with Mrs. Weasley, having her watch our every move." She paused for a moment, looking at Ron meaningfully. "But she _will_ have to know before long."

Ron snorted.

"Yeah-- and _you're_ gonna tell her, are you?"

"She's your mother, Ron, you have to tell her."

"Are you mad, she'll go ballistic! She'd probably chain us to the wall to make sure we don't leave."

"But can you imagine what it would be like to wake up one morning and find that your son and his friends were completely missing?"

"No." said Ron.

"You're so insensitive, Ron!" said Hermione. "Sometimes I can't believe you're even human."

"Look," said Ron soothingly, "if it makes you feel better, I'll tell her the morning before we leave, alright?"

Hermione, whose jaw was set, nodded without catching Ron's eye.

The rest of the week was spent laying back and chatting, or else playing Gobstones with Fleur's cousins who weren't very good at the game. Hermione only watched, but mostly buried herself in her old books, which appeared to be some sort of comfort to her, seeing as she would not be going back to Hogwarts. Harry and Ron talked about Quidditch and even found that one of Fleur's grandfathers was an excellent player in his day. According to him, he played Keeper for France's National Team sixty years previous until a Bludger shattered his hip and he had to discontinue playing. However, he spent hours giving Harry and Ron some moves and tips to fly faster and more accurately that neither of the boys had heard about before. He was even delighted to hear that Harry was Quidditch Captain.

As the week wore down, Fleur could be found in more frenzies than even Mrs. Weasley. Her wedding, which was set for that Saturday, was coming closer and closer and she felt nothing was even ready. She and Bill had finally decided that they would hold their wedding at the Burrow, despite the cold weather outside. Harry wondered how they would fit even more people into the Burrow, seeing as only Fleur's side of the family was living with them and even more people might make the house burst.

"We'll figure something out," said Mrs. Weasley when Harry pointed this out to her on Wednesday night.

On Thursday, hundreds of flowers were delivered by a thin wizard who looked extremely nervous and an enormous cake was delivered by a squat witch.

Friday morning, Harry awoke to an owl landing on him, carrying a neat package.

"Wha--" he groaned sleepily. The owl hooted at him as though annoyed with him. He read the tag tied to the package: _Ronald Weasley_. "Oh," he said. He untied the owl from the package. However, the owl didn't move. "You want money, don't you?" he asked. He flipped over the tag with Ron's name on it and read _Eight Galleons and Seven Sickles_. Harry spun around on his cot and reached under it where he kept his belongings and pulled out his money pouch.

Once he paid the owl eight galleons and seven sickles, the owl took flight out of the open window which was now emitting large quantities of snow. Feeling it would be no good to fall asleep again in the freezing cold, Harry groaned and rolled out of bed. As he passed Ron's bed, he tossed the package at him, but Ron merely grunted in his sleep, and continued to snore.

Harry reached the window, but just when he was about to shut it, he saw a blurred figure walking towards the house. Pulling out his wand, Harry pointed it at his glasses lying on the floor next to his money pouch and summoned them silently. They flew across the room directly into Harry's hand. He shoved them on his nose and looked back out the window. The figure was still there, but seemed to be trying to shove his way closer to the Burrow, but something was holding him back.

_The protection line_, thought Harry. Then, he turned to a sleeping Ron, who had his arms around the package Harry had thrown at him and whispered, "Ron, wake up. Get up, I need you to see this."

"Chocolate Frogs," Ron mumbled sleepily, smiling slightly. Harry raised an eyebrow. He looked back out the window. The figure was still there.

"Ron, get up. _Ron_!" he hissed, standing on one foot and using the other to nudge Ron impatiently as he kept both hands on the window. "_Ron!_"

"Wha--" groaned Ron, lifting his head a little. He shook his head to rid it of sleep. "Are you mad, Harry, it's five in the morning."

"I know and I'm sorry, but I need you to see this. I think there's the Death Eater outside."

"_What_?" yelped Ron, jumping out of bed, the package falling on the floor, landing on one of Fleur's cousins, who jolted awake.

"Whazzamatter?" he groaned.

"Go back to bed." snapped Ron. The French boy didn't need twice telling and lowered his head, immediately falling back to sleep. Ron shook his head and looked at Harry, "So, what's this about a Death Eater?"

"Look," said Harry, moving aside so Ron could see out the window as well, "down there. I think he's trying to get through the protection line."

"Blimey, I wonder if Mum and Dad know." said Ron. "B-but he can't get by, can he? Not with the protection line there, right?"

Harry shook his head. "I wonder what he wants."

"You, probably." said Ron reasonably. "Isn't that what the last one did?"

"The last one missed my house and went for Mrs. Figg."

"Yeah, but he could have taken a wrong turn, right?"

Again, Harry shook his head. The sun was rising, lighting the entire sky, which was clouded over. It set a gloomy appearance, which could only be matched, thought Harry, by his own panic about the Death Eater.

"I wonder why they keep showing up where I am?" he thought out loud.

"Maybe-- Harry, maybe it's the same one!" said Ron. "D'you recognize him?"

Harry glanced at the Death Eater who was still attempting to push his way through the protection line, but it wouldn't falter.

"They all look the same to me," said Harry. "I couldn't tell if I wanted to."

"I'm gonna go wake Mum and Dad." said Ron worriedly, stepping back from the window, "Keep an eye on him, right?"

"Right," said Harry, staring back down at the Death Eater, who was still putting up a fruitless effort to force his way closer to the Burrow. The wind began to pick up, blowing cold air through the window. Harry shivered. Seconds turned into minutes and Harry began to wonder how much longer he would have to wait, watching the Death Eater struggle.

Finally, Harry heard footsteps coming up the stairs and the door burst open, banging off the wall. Every last one of Fleur's cousins in the room sat bolt upright and screamed.

"_Silencio_!" said Mr. Weasley, pulling out his wand and waving it so everyone in the room was hit with the spell. Harry felt his own voice escape him as he tried to direct Mr. Weasley to the window. Mrs. Weasley followed closely behind her husband looking worried. She tried to speak to her husband but found that her voice had gone too. Annoyed, she tapped Mr. Weasley's shoulder and he pointed his wand at her and muttered the countercurse, then again to Ron, who was behind his mother. He did the same to Harry as he walked toward him.

"Is he still there, Harry?" Mr. Weasley whispered. Harry looked round, hoping the loud screams had not scared the Death Eater away. There was the Death Eater, his back now turned to them as he tried to lean against the line to push it away.

"Yeah," said Harry quietly as he moved aside to give Mr. Weasley room.

"Merlin's beard," said Mr. Weasley, "how long has he been out there?"

"About fifteen minutes, unless he was there before I woke up," said Harry.

"Come away from the window, Harry, or you'll catch a cold," said Mrs. Weasley, pulling Harry back from the window by the shoulder. Mr. Weasley shut it and turned to everyone in the vicinity. Fleur's cousins had their hands to their throats.

"I don't want anyone going outside," he said to Mrs. Weasley, "he's been touching the protection line for a while, so the alarm must have sounded at Grimmauld Place. Remus is probably trying to round up the Order. In the meantime, Molly, I need you to make sure no one leaves the house. I'll go wake Bill."

"What can me and Harry do, Dad?" Ron asked his father, squaring his shoulders bravely. "We want to help." Harry nodded in agreement and pulled his wand out. Mr. Weasley looked shocked and worried. He waited until Mrs. Weasley had left before turning back to the boys.

"I would love for you to help, you know that," he whispered, "but Molly would never forgive me if I set you to something dangerous and you got hurt."

"We're of age!" said Ron indignantly. "C'mon, Dad, how can Mum ever trust us if she doesn't give us a chance?"

"It's not that she doesn't trust you, Ron-- but I've got to go and wake Bill. Please don't argue, this is an emergency." said Mr. Weasley. He turned to leave, but Ron stepped in front of him.

"Dad, we want to help," he said. Mr. Weasley sighed.

"Alright-- go downstairs and watch the Death Eater. If something changes, one of you come get us." He side-stepped Ron and ran out the door. Fleur's cousins tried to yell at him to give them back their voices. They turned to Ron and Harry for help. But Ron, who had had just about enough of Fleur's family, grinned wildly.

"It's a shame that we never learned the countercurse for the Silencing Charm, eh, Harry?" he said loudly before he walked out the door and Harry followed, trying to ignore the silent, angry protests. Once the door was shut, Ron looked at Harry. "I've been wanting to do that for so long."

Harry grinned. "C'mon, we have to go watch the Death Eater."

The two of them jumped down the stairs as quietly as they could as to not wake anyone. Once, they ran into Mrs. Weasley who was emerging from Fleur's room. They avoided talking to her as they bounded silently down the remainder of the stairs, finally reaching the landing. The coal in the fireplace was still smoking slightly and glowing embers winked at them, but Harry turned away from them and followed Ron to the front door where they peered out the window at the still struggling Death Eater.

"Wonder why he won't just give up," said Ron. Harry's mind reeled. Why _didn't_ the Death Eater give up? Snow was falling, wind was howling and still, he pushed at the invisible line as though expecting it to give way. "Where're Dad and Bill?"

"Dunno," said Harry, "maybe trying to contact the Order?"

"Yeah…"

More minutes passed in silence. Harry and Ron were both too absorbed in their own thoughts to speak to each other. They merely watched the Death Eater, who, after about five more minutes, began kicking the line impatiently.

"Just like Dad to give us a boring job and make it sound helpful," said Ron, picking at a spot on the windowpane. Just as he finished the sentence, Bill and Mr. Weasley ran down the stairs.

"Where were you?" Ron asked them as they ran towards the door.

"Not now, Ron," said Bill, pushing his youngest brother aside to peer out the window. "He's a Death Eater, all right. Why he hasn't given up by now is beyond me."

"He's either desperate, determined, or mad." said Ron.

"Or all three." Harry replied.

"I'm going to go see what he wants," said Mr. Weasley, grabbing his cloak. For a moment, Harry wondered if Mr. Weasley was insane. "Bill-- Harry… come with me."

"Why does Harry get to go and not me?" Ron yelled.

"_Keep your voice down, Ron_!" Bill hissed. "Don't you see? If the Death Eater wants Harry, we'll be able to use him as a way to get information."

"Oh no you don't, Arthur!" said a shrill voice behind the four of them. They all spun around and came face-to-face with Mrs. Weasley, looking livid. "There is no way I am going to let you use Harry as bait! He could be killed!"

"Molly," said Mr. Weasley calmly, taking his wife's hand, "D'you think I would give Harry to them? I swear to you, he'll be perfectly safe with me and Bill. And he's not a child, he can take care of himself."

"No, no, Arthur, this is ludicrous, even Sirius would have put his foot down to the idea!"

"No spell can pass the protection line, Molly-- not even Avada Kedavra. Well, at least I think so, but the chances of that happening are--"

"Very… high…" Mrs. Weasley seethed through clenched teeth. "I won't allow you to put Harry's life in danger for a mere exchange of words."

"Molly, it's Harry's decision," said Mr. Weasley, finalizing the debate, "if he doesn't want to, I won't make him. But if he does, you can't stop him."

They both looked at Harry without saying a word. Harry didn't know what to say to either of them, so silence overtook them. He tried to be honest with himself-- he wanted to know what the Death Eater wanted; why he'd killed Mrs. Figg, why he was following him. Finally, he opened his mouth and said quietly, "I want to know what he wants."

Mr. Weasley nodded grimly, but Mrs. Weasley looked worried.

"Harry, dear, you're-- you're sure? It's dangerous."

"Harry's handled much more dangerous things before, Molly, he'll be fine." said Mr. Weasley. He pulled out his wand just as Bill and Harry did the same. Harry caught Ron's eye before he followed Mr. Weasley and Bill out the open door. Ron's eyes were mingled with a mixture of worry and jealousy that Harry was going out there. Harry grinned uneasily, yet as reassuringly as he could and walked outside. The door clicked shut behind him.

"Come on, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, taking Harry's upper arm and pulling him closer. Over the howling wind, he spoke only loud enough for Harry to hear. "If he tries to attack us, run, alright? Leave me and Bill."

"D'you think that will happen?" asked Harry nervously. The snow was hitting his glasses and making it hard for him to see clearly. Mr. Weasley shrugged and looked at the Death Eater, who had stopped pounding on the protection line and was now standing, watching the three of them approach. He reached inside his robes and pulled out his wand.

"Throw down your wand," commanded Mr. Weasley, pointing his own wand at the Death Eater. Bill and Harry followed suit. "Why are you here?"

The Death Eater said nothing. Harry tried to peer under the hood in hopes that he could tell who the Death Eater was. He was very tall and very thin, but his face was covered by the mask. He continued to be silent. Looking from Mr. Weasley to Harry, then back again finally lifting a pallid hand and pointed to Harry.

"Harry. You want Harry?" Mr. Weasley said forcefully, trying to translate the sign language. The Death Eater nodded and took a step closer. Mr. Weasley threw his arm out to the side, catching Harry in the chest. However, when he spoke it to the Death Eater, "It's a protection line. That's why you can't get through. Only a few know the incantation's passwords and it changes very often. No spells can come through either." he added, eyeing the Death Eater's raised wand.

The Death Eater advanced on them. Harry took a surprised step backwards, the snow crunching under his feet, but Mr. Weasley and Bill held their ground and soon, the Death Eater ran into the border of the protection line. He threw a fist forward as though impatient, but it stopped in midair as he struck the line.

"Why do you want Harry?" he asked. The Death Eater's shoulder shook with laughter. He pulled up the sleeve of his left hand and pointed to the Dark Mark on the forearm of his left arm. Mr. Weasley studied it for a moment as though he were confused. He looked up at the Death Eater and tried his best to understand, "You-Know-Who?"

The Death Eater nodded.

"Why won't you talk?" Bill asked from Harry's right. "I want to hear your voice. Talk!"

The Death Eater watched Bill warily for a moment or two. Then, he pointed his wand at his own throat and muttered an hushed incantation.

"You want me to talk?" said the Death Eater. His voice was extremely deep and Harry recognized it as the same voice he'd heard shoot the Dark Mark over Mrs. Figg's house on his birthday. Mr. Weasley and Bill looked at each other. "Give me Potter. My Master wants him."

"You're not getting Harry until we get some questions answered," said Mr. Weasley.

"I won't talk. Just give me Potter! _Crucio_!"

Mr. Weasley, Bill and Harry winced as they saw the bright flash of red light come their way. They all shut their eyes and looked away as though it would prevent the Cruciatus Curse from hurting them. A moments' silence followed in which they listened to hear either their own screams or each others'. When no sound came, they all opened their eyes.

"_Crucio_!" the Death Eater shouted again, pointing his wand directly at Harry. The spell hit the protection line and dissolved completely, leaving no mark on either the line, or Harry. "Come here, Potter!"

Mr. Weasley placed a protective hand on Harry's shoulder. He gripped so hard that Harry's entire arm started feeling pins and needles. All of a sudden, there was a loud popping noise and about ten people Apparated around the Death Eater. He jumped and looked around at them. Harry looked too and saw among them, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt. They all had their wands pointed at the Death Eater. In one voice, they shouted, "STUPIFY!"

Jets of red light shot from their wands and connected, creating a large ball of combined spells that was so bright, everyone had to cover their eyes. Harry could hear the spells shoot strait at the Death Eater and hit him before he could move. When the light died down, Harry peered around his hands to see the Death Eater sprawled on the snow-covered ground, robes wrapped around his legs.

"GOT HIM!" Harry heard Moody yell as all ten of them, plus Mr. Weasley and Bill who crossed over the protection line ran towards the stunned Death Eater. Harry began to follow them when Mr. Weasley turned, his glasses flashing, "Stay there, Harry!"

Harry stopped for a fraction of a second. Mr. Weasley had kneeled down by the Death Eater, but Harry couldn't hear what he was saying. Deciding he would rather know who the Death Eater was, he ignored Mr. Weasley's command and walked over the protection line towards the group of Order members.

"…said he wanted Harry," he heard Mr. Weasley mutter.

"Doesn't surprise me, Arthur," said Tonks, who was crouched on Mr. Weasley's left. "He's probably on the top of You-Know-Who's most wanted list."

"Well, let's unmask the git and get it over with," said Moody, standing on the other side. Harry walked closer and peered over Tonk's purple-haired head so he could see the Death Eater clearly. Mr. Weasley reached for the Death Eater's mask and grasped it firmly.

Just as he lifted it from the Death Eater's face, Harry let out a cry of surprise. He wasn't the only one, and those who didn't cry out frowned deeply. The Death Eater's body began to dissolve slowly. Mr. Weasley's hands slipped on the disappearing mask and it fell back onto the Death Eater's face. Moody growled and tried to grab the Death Eater, but his hand went right through the Death Eaters' chest as he groped for him. In a matter of seconds, the unconscious Death Eater had completely disappeared, leaving the Order and Harry looking at nothing but a pile of snow where the Death Eaters' skinny body had lain only moments before.

OoOoOoO

I am _so_ sorry for the huge delay! As you've heard me say, I'm extremely busy and with my flute District Solo Competition _next week_ (Aaaaaaaah!) I'm getting really stressed out! That's my excuse. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. It was a really fun one to write!

As always, if you're interested in staffing for my C2, please contact me and keep looking at my bio page to be updated with why it's taking me so long to post the next chapters!

Please review!

May broomsticks be in your dreams!

Luv,

Legolas-gurl88

LG

**Next chapter: **It's about that time for Bill and Fleur's wedding, y'all!


	8. The Ice Palace

**Title: **Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul

**Author: **Legolas-gurl88

**Disclaimer: **It's all J.K.

OoOoOoO

**8. The Ice Palace**

"What d'you mean he disappeared?" Ron asked again. He, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all sitting in Ron's room, conversing about what had happened hours earlier. Harry rubbed his temples-- he had a headache from having to think so much so early in the morning.

"It's just what I said-- he disappeared-- just… dissolved."

"And you didn't see his face?" Hermione asked. She was sitting on Harry's cot. Next to Hermione, Ginny sat cross-legged watching Harry and Ron on the edge of Ron's Chudley Cannon clad bed.

"No." Harry answered in a defeated voice.

"What did his voice sound like?" Hermione questioned him. Crookshanks sat in her lap, purring as she stroked his fur. Harry recalled the sound of the Death Eater's voice.

"It was deep-- really deep. It was the same voice that I heard in Little Winging. But he did say a spell while he had his wand pointed his throat. Ron's dad reckons he performed the Voice-Changing Charm to cover his own voice."

"Then he must be trying to hide his identity."

"D'you think so?" said Harry sarcastically. He sighed and looked outside where the sky was still clouded over and snow was falling thickly, pounding on the window.

"But we do know that he's really desperate to get to Harry," said Ginny. Her Pygmy Puff, Arnold was atop her shoulder, watching Crookshanks interestedly though Crookshanks didn't notice him. "He didn't give up on trying to get through the protection line."

"But he was unconscious, how could he have possibly disappeared?" said Hermione, running a hand through her hair.

"Dunno," shrugged Harry. But Ron was looking excited.

"Maybe…" he began, apparently thinking hard, "maybe he had backup hiding nearby. Did you notice anything, Harry?"

"How could I? I was more worried about the Death Eater right in front of me." said Harry.

"Maybe You-Know-Who was there." said Ron, sounding slightly unnerved.

"But Harry's scar didn't hurt, did it, Harry?" Ginny asked, turning to Harry. Arnold swayed on her shoulder as she moved.

"No, it didn't." said Harry.

"Harry's scar doesn't hurt anymore. It hasn't for an entire year." said Hermione.

"But Harry hasn't run into You-Know-Who for a year," Ginny pointed out. "You-Know-Who's stopped trying to possess him, but who says it won't still hurt Harry when he's close by?"

"Fair point," said Ron reasonably.

"But I was over the protection line for a bit before the Death Eater disappeared." said Harry, "If someone was hiding nearby, they could've taken me out then, couldn't they?"

"Yes, Harry, but there were twelve members from the Order with you." said Hermione. "They might not have wanted to cause trouble when it was one against thirteen."

There was a knock at the door and Mrs. Weasley came bustling in, four levitating trays of food following her closely.

"I thought you four would like to eat up here, what with everything that's happened."

"Have they found anything?" asked Harry, standing up as his own tray of food glided towards him. Mrs. Weasley's smile faltered a bit.

"No, they haven't. Don't you worry about it, Harry, the Order's got it under control."

She left.

The four of them ate in silence for a bit, staring at anything except each other. Harry's eyes were glued to the window. Just a couple of hours ago, he had woken up to find the Death Eater forcing his way through the protection line. His stomach churned at the thought that the Death Eater was still out there somewhere.

"Ron, what's that?" Ginny asked finally, pointing behind Harry and Ron who were both sitting on Ron's bed. They both turned to stare at the spot that Ginny was pointing at and Harry saw the package the owl had delivered earlier.

"I dunno," said Ron, sounding nonplussed.

"It was delivered this morning. That's what woke me up." said Harry. Ron grabbed the package and ripped it open to find a box reading _Madam Malkin's_ in curly letters on the front.

Ron looked excited. "They're my dress robes for the wedding!" He ripped the top off the box and pulled the robes out. Harry had been slightly worried about what they might have looked like, but as they unfolded, his worries vanished. The robes were black, but despite the simplicity of color, they looked extraordinarily fancy and came complete with a gold hems and bow tie. Harry found Ron looked extremely different holding up a pair of robes that were exactly his size and not too small.

"Good one, Ron," said Ginny. Harry wasn't sure if she was being polite or sarcastic. "Go great with my gold ones, they will."

Harry turned to Ginny questioningly. "Aren't you--"

"A bridesmaid? Yeah. Ron's one of the groomsmen. He's escorting me." She grimaced, but Ron didn't seem to have noticed.

"You are?" Harry asked Ron, who's ears turned pink.

"Well… yeah," he said. "Charlie's Bill's Best Man. He's going to escort Gabrielle, who's Fleur's Maid of Honor." Ron sniggered at the thought of Charlie escorting Gabrielle. "And that leaves me and Ginny."

"Why aren't Fred and George groomsmen?" Harry asked.

"Well, obviously, Bill got on best with Charlie, because they're really close in age." said Ron, ticking off fingers. "Next comes Percy, and he's not even coming to the wedding-- sent back his invitation and everything. Then Fred and George come next, but Fleur only wanted two bridesmaids and Bill couldn't decide on one of them and still have Charlie. That leaves me."

Mrs. Weasley walked in again.

"All done, you four?" she asked kindly, bewitching the lunch trays to float from their laps and downstairs. Then, she caught sight of Ron's dress robes and rushed toward him. "Oh, Ronnie, they look absolutely _marvelous_! About time too, I was wondering if they were going to come in time. But the post owl just left them here. I didn't pay for them yet."

Harry slouched slightly, not wanting Mrs. Weasley to know he paid for them; she would surely insist on paying back and he didn't want her to. Hermione seemed to understand Harry's sudden movement and she smiled at him.

"Oh, that reminds me, Harry-- _Accio_!" Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand out the door. Another parcel floated into the room and landed on Harry's lap. "Dress robes. They're the same color as your old ones, I just had Madam Malkin make them longer seeing as you've grown quite a bit in the last two years."

Harry pulled the robes out and recognized the same bottle-green color. He grinned.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

"It was no trouble, dear, none at all." Mrs. Weasley smiled. There was a sudden crash downstairs and Mrs. Weasley looked absolutely maddened. "I'll be so happy once this is all over!" She ran to the door and slammed it shut behind her.

The next morning was just as dreary as the previous one, only no threats of Death Eaters aroused, so all-in-all it was a better day. Mrs. Weasley roused Ron, Harry and Fleur's cousins at about eleven, an hour before the ceremony, so they could help make last-minute arrangements downstairs.

"Put on your dress robes while you're up here," she added, "I don't know if you'll have time before the ceremony."

Harry and Ron stumbled unwillingly out of bed and shivered. Harry reluctantly took off his warm pajamas and pulled on his new dress robes. As he turned, he saw Ron looking in the cracked mirror at his reflection, turning all ways to view his dress robes from every angle. Fleur's cousins left to go downstairs without speaking once to either of the boys.

"I reckon we should go too," said Ron. Harry nodded sleepily, checked the mirror and straitened his robes one last time before following Ron downstairs. They met Bill halfway down the stairs looking extremely nervous. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with the note cards in which he'd written his vows on. His scarred face was creased with worry and Harry and Ron, after giving a few encouraging words, left him standing there silently.

Before they even reached the landing, Harry could hear a lot of commotion going on downstairs. By the sound of it, some of Bill's side of the family had already arrived. When he and Ron stepped off the last step, their jaws dropped in unison.

The ground floor of the Burrow was no longer a small place littered with couches. Instead, it was about the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Instead of the homely reds and oranges, the entire place was colored blue, white and gold. All of the tatty furniture was gone, and in it's place sat crystal-clear couches and chairs. At the very end of the large room were a large number of clear chairs, facing a beautifully bedecked alter where Bill and Fleur would be saying their vows in a couple of hours.

Above them flew hundreds of cherubs that reminded Harry horribly of his date with Cho Chang in the fifth year at Madam Puddifoot's where he was showered in confetti. Also, he caught sight of many crystalline doves that looked as if they had been bewitched to fly around. Ice sculptures of unicorns and doves were placed around the room; they gleamed in the blue torchlight.

"Mum!" Ron shouted, walking toward Mrs. Weasley. "How-- how--"

"Isn't it lovely?" she asked, gazing fondly at the ceiling which was painted with doves and cherubs that were flying as one and smiling. "All of it is for rent and it took nearly thirty Order members to bewitch the room to be this size."

"Is it permanent?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Goodness, Ron, no!" said Mrs. Weasley as she laughed. "No spell is strong enough to make this room stay as big as it is for very long. It'll return to normal tomorrow." She began to walk away and Ron grinned.

"One day to enjoy it, then." he muttered to Harry, rubbing his hands together.

"Oh, and Arthur needs your help, boys." Mrs. Weasley added over her shoulder.

"Where is he?" Ron asked.

"Haven't the foggiest!" she shouted as she was eaten up by a large crowd of Fleur's great-great grandparents. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged. They began walking around the room, searching for Mr. Weasley, but stopped here and there to admire the decorations. Finally, they found him trying to charm tinsel to stick to the walls, but children were trampling the decorations as they chased each other around. In the end, Ron and Harry had to block the way while Mr. Weasley finished the work. He went into the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley with the receptions' finger foods.

There were several high-pitched shouts behind Harry and he turned to see two boys rolling around on the ground, hitting and biting every part of each other that they could reach. One was blonde and the other was red-headed.

"Oi," said Ron, trying to get close to them, but they merely rolled away from him. Harry and Ron both had to corner the two boys and they pulled them apart, but the two boys refused to stop clawing the air, desperate to reach each other. The blonde boy kicked Harry's shin and shouted angrily at him in French while the red-head Ron was restraining reared angrily, kicking the air. It wasn't until their parents came to find them that Harry and Ron could continue walking.

They leaned against the wall and watched as people walked by. Once, Harry and Ron received a huge shock as an extremely loud bell clanged and everyone jumped. Mrs. Weasley, however, rushed to the door and opened it. About twenty well-dressed red-heads walked inside, greeting Mrs. Weasley kindly and handing her gifts that she stacked onto a table. Every once in a while, someone Harry and Ron knew walked by. At one point, Harry was greeted enthusiastically by Tonks, accompanied by Lupin. After about half an hour of greeting people, Hermione and Ginny found them.

Ginny looked extremely pretty in her pale gold robes, her long hair pulled up into a neat bun. She smiled and Harry, despite himself, felt his knees grow weak as he grinned back. He turned to look at Hermione and found that she had obviously spent more time on herself than usual. She was wearing her new bright blue robes she'd bought the previous year, matching the scenery. Her hair was also up in a tight bun and she beamed at the two boys.

"You look nice," said Harry to Ginny. She smiled even more and took his hands. Harry nudged Ron with his elbow. He looked stupidly around at him. Harry jerked his head in Hermione's direction and Ron, getting the idea, turned back to Hermione and cleared his throat.

"You-- you look nice," he mumbled quickly and almost inaudibly, staring at his feet, his voice growing fainter the longer he spoke. Hermione frowned at him as though trying to work out what he'd said.

"Er-- what?" she asked. Ron didn't look up from his feet and he didn't say anything more. Ginny groaned and she and Harry exchanged glances. Harry decided to help Ron out a bit.

"He said you look nice," he answered quickly. Ron nodded.

"Oh-- er… thanks," said Hermione, blushing. She glanced at Harry and he could tell she'd been slightly put out by Ron's less-than-flattering greeting. Suddenly, the torches dimmed. Ginny sighed and let go of Harry's hands. She grabbed her brother by the sleeve, but he seemed rooted to the spot.

"Come _on_, Ron! You're supposed to escort people to their seats, you and Charlie!" she said, yanking him harder and he walked off with her. She was muttering to him and he was answering her in what sounded like a depressed voice. Harry and Hermione stood where they were for a few moments, looking at each other.

"He really did mean well, you know," said Harry, trying to defend his best friend. Hermione sighed and nodded.

"Shall we-- er-- go get our seats?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," answered Harry. The two of them walked to the chairs at the end of the giant room and stood on the blue carpet creating the isle-way. All of Fleur's family was already seated and most of Bill's were as well, but several were still walking towards the chairs.

Harry waited for something to happen, but neither Ron, nor Charlie was there to tell them what to do. Instead, Ginny walked up to them.

"Ron's in a state and Charlie's not ready yet," she said, rolling her eyes. "You two can take your seats up front, with the family. Those seats are reserved, so just find your name."

Harry and Hermione thanked Ginny as she walked off, apparently to comfort Ron. Assuming it was only polite, Harry offered Hermione his arm and she took it, looking happier than she had moments ago. They walked down the long isle. Hermione glanced at people on Bill's side of the family, saying hello to some of them and nodding to others, but Harry, who was on the side closest to Fleur's family, tried to ignore their stares and mumbling in French. Finally, they made it up to the front and saw that Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley were already seated. Harry located his name on one of the chairs, between Hermione's chair and George's. He and Hermione sat down and watched as Ron and Charlie, who both looked slightly nervous, began escorting people to their seats.

Finally, the ceremony started. Charlie and Gabrielle walked down the isle together, Gabrielle looking stunted, seeing as Charlie was feet taller than her. She was smiling anyway and seemed to be enjoying herself. Behind them, Ron and Ginny walked arm-in-arm down the isle. Ginny looked happy, but Ron's smile looked extremely strained. As they passed Harry, he gave Ron an encouraging smile. Ron grinned, but then saw Hermione and he faced forward again. Once all of them had walked down the isle, Bill came from the side, looking extremely nervous. Mrs. Weasley started crying into a handkerchief as she watched him. Bill waved to her. He was wearing blue and silver robes and his red hair was pulled back into it's usual ponytail. Even his fanged earring looked polished.

Music began to start up; lilting music that was both smooth and beautiful. Everyone stood and looked at the beginning of the isle. A little girl with blonde hair was standing at the end, holding a basket of flowers and throwing them in the air. Behind her, beaming, was Fleur. Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his chest. Beautiful as Fleur was, he had never seen her look so beautiful in all the time he'd known her. Her gown was pure white and her silvery hair was artfully knotted and twisted up so that it supported her veil. Harry spotted a tiara place upon her head that must have been loaned by Bill's Great-Aunt Muriel. In her hands, she held a bouquet of white lilies. She clung to the arm of her dark-haired father, who looked as if he wished this moment could go on forever.

Silently, Fleur and her father followed the Flower Girl down the isle while the music continued to play. Harry looked around. All the boys on Bill's side couldn't take their eyes off her. They gaped as she passed them. When she passed Harry, her smile widened and she showed her strait teeth. Harry couldn't help but smile back.

Once she and Bill were arm-in-arm, a short wizard marched out and stood on a step. Everyone watched him for a moment as he gazed at Fleur and Bill. Then, he began to speak.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the magical matrimony of this wizard and this witch…" he began. Harry lost interest and instead, watched Bill and Fleur who were gazing into each others' eyes. He didn't even notice when the little blonde boy carrying the rings appeared. Fleur and Bill placed the rings on their fingers.

"William, do you promise to stay with Fleur…" the wizard droned on even more. Harry was pulled out of his stupor by hearing Bill's loud and shaking voice say, "I do."

The wizard asked the same for Fleur. Finally, she answered with an, "I do."

"Then by the power vested in me, by the Minister of Magic, I now pronounce you happily wedded Witch and Warlock." He turned to Bill. "You may kiss the bride." Mrs. Weasley let out a loud, happy sob, tears streaming down her face.

And Bill and Fleur kissed.

OoOoOoO

I figured there would never be a way for their wedding to run smoothly, but it would be nice, so I figured this was good. I hope you enjoyed it!

I did my Solo Competition yesterday and already have the scores. I played at 10:30 a.m., which is nice. To make it to State, you need to get a I (Roman Numerals). The worst score is IV. I got a -I! That's good! I didn't make it to state, but it would have been extremely stressful to keep going with that stupid piece of music! Last year, I got a II, so I have improved which is all I really wanted to do! Next year, I'll try to make it to State! There's always another chance and now I know what I can work on! Hooray!

I've also got a Myspace page! Go check it out… it's under my homepage on my bio page.

May broomsticks be in your dreams!

Luv,

Legolas-gurl88

LG

**Next chapter: **Harry, Ron and Hermione leave the Burrow to find Harry's old home.


	9. Miggs

**Title: **Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul

**Author: **Legolas-gurl88

**Disclaimer: **S'all Jo.

OoOoOoO

**9. Miggs**

The excitement of Bill and Fleur's wedding lasted several days, even after they left on their honeymoon to Spain. The day of the wedding, every last one of Fleur's family members moved out, thanking Mrs. Weasley coldly for her hospitality. Some of the Weasley's closer relatives stayed overnight to help with clean-up and to catch up with each other.

Ron was exceptionally glad that he had his room back, even if the Great Hall-like ground floor did not remain so the next day. Overnight, it shrank back to it's usual sides, the decorations disappeared and all the old furniture was returned. Harry tried to make the next several days the best of his life as he laughed with his friends and ate the leftover wedding cake. He watched his two best friends carefully and they looked so happy that he wished it would never end. Harry couldn't bring himself to ask them to leave with him until they were ready. Every once in a while, he would retreat to Ron's room alone to sit on his cot and stare at the two things he now made a habit of carrying with him everywhere; the fake Horcrux and his father's wand.

If Harry had to be honest with himself, he wished he could leave any second and travel to Godric's Hollow alone. But he remembered his promise to Ron and Hermione and was thankful that they were willing to go with him. As the time got closer that he and his friends would have to leave, the sharp pain in his chest returned. One day, as he was pacing Ron's room, grasping the fake Horcrux in his hand, Ron knocked at the door and walked in, followed closely by Hermione.

"What's up?" Ron asked timidly. Harry stared at him.

"What d'you mean?"

"You've been coming up here alone so much," said Hermione, "Mrs. Weasley is starting to worry-- we all are." she added at the look of Ron's face. Ron nodded in agreement to Hermione's statement.

"What's up?" Ron asked again. Harry regarded him for a moment, hand still on the locket. Then, he looked down and continued to pace. He knew what he wanted to say, but he just didn't know how to put it to words.

"I-- I want to leave." he said finally. "Go to Godric's Hollow. Go find the last Horcruxes."

Hermione nodded. "I thought it would be something like that."

"We're still with you," said Ron. Harry felt a spurt of deep affection for his two friends erupt within his aching chest. He nodded. "When d'you wanna leave?" Ron asked.

"If you two are ready-- tonight." answered Harry. Ron looked slightly surprised, but nodded in unison with Hermione nonetheless.

"We're ready." said Hermione. She turned to Ron. "You need to tell your mother."

"Yeah," said Ron, sounding almost pained. He stood up, "I'll go tell her now."

As Ron left the room, Hermione looked back at Harry, who avoided her gaze for several minutes.

"Harry-- what's that?" she asked finally, pointing to the bit of Harry's father's wand sticking out of his pocket. He hid it from view. "Nothing. Don't worry about it." Hermione's eyes widened.

"But--"

"I'll show you later." He fiddled with the wand inside his pocket. He wasn't ready to share his dad's wand with Ron and Hermione.

"But--"

"Later," said Harry firmly and Hermione nodded.

"YOU ARE NOT LEAVING THIS HOUSE, RONALD WEASLEY!" came a sudden shrill scream from downstairs. Harry and Hermione winced as they recognized Mrs. Weasley's voice. "YOU ARE TO STAY HERE AND THEN GO BACK TO HOGWARTS! I WON'T HAVE YOU RUNNING AROUND BRITAIN LOOKING FOR FANTASIES!"

"I-- er-- think Mrs. Weasley knows now," whispered Hermione as they heard Ron's angry retorts. Harry's heart was beating very fast, causing the pain in his chest to worsen. "Harry-- what's wrong?" asked Hermione. Harry realized he's just clapped a hand to the sore spot when it gave a particularly nasty throb. He immediately took his hand away.

"Nothing." he said, gritting his teeth. "Maybe we should go back Ron up."

"I suppose," said Hermione, standing up and she and Harry made their way down the stairs. They found Ron and Mrs. Weasley shouting at each other in the kitchen, red-faced.

"HOW COULD YOU EVEN THINK OF LEAVING NOW, WHEN YOU-KNOW-WHO AND HIS DEATH EATERS ARE ON THE PROWL? YOU'RE TO FINISH YOUR EDUCATION!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

"YOU CAN'T STOP ME, I'M OF AGE!" Ron retorted, his hands clutched into fists. "BESIDES, FRED AND GEORGE DIDN'T FINISH THEIR HOGWARTS EDUCATION!"

"THEY WERE NEARLY DONE AND AT LEAST THEY PICKED UP _JOBS_ AFTER THEY LEFT!"

"What's going on?" said Ginny, who had just walked into the room and stopped beside Harry and Hermione. Ron and Mrs. Weasley both looked around.

"I suppose _you're_ in on this as well!" Mrs. Weasley shouted at her daughter, looking positively dangerous now. Harry thought Ginny was right to back away.

"In on what?"

"Ron, Harry and Hermione leaving on this-- this goose chase!"

"Oh," said Ginny, comprehension dawning on her face. "Yes, I suppose."

"Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione in a small voice, "this is something that Harry needs to do and Ron and I don't want to leave him to do it on his own."

"It sounds dangerous and you haven't even finished your schooling!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, looking somewhat desperate, "You just don't know enough to do these things yet!"

"Hermione's been at N.E.W.T. standard for years!" said Ron. "And Harry's best in our year at Defense Against the Dark Arts! He got an 'Outstanding' on his O.W.L.s!"

"And _you_?" said Mrs. Weasley. "What have you got, Ronald?"

Ron didn't say anything for a long while. He kept looking around the room, as if trying to think of some special ability of his own. By the look of his face, he came up short.

"I-- I've got really good friends." he said finally.

"Ron's really good at fighting." said Hermione very suddenly. She was staring at Mrs. Weasley as though bracing herself for more yelling. "He took out three Death Eaters on his own at the end of last year when they snuck into Hogwarts."

Ron's ears turned bright red. Mrs. Weasley, however, seemed at a complete loss for what to say. Instead she squared her shoulders.

"I don't want any of you to do this. Wait until you're older. I'll feel better about letting you leave then."

"Voldemort wants to kill me now, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, speaking for the first time, "he's not going to wait for me to get older before he comes after me. He's not going to leave me alone so I can learn how to fight him better before he attacks."

"So you're going to go looking for him, then," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Not exactly." said Harry, trading glances with Ron, "but when I'm ready, yeah."

"But what if he finds you before you're ready?" said Mrs. Weasley, tears building up in her eyes. "What if he kills all three of you?"

"I can't promise that won't happen." said Harry, his insides twisting at the very thought. "But you've got to trust me to know that what I'm doing is right for everyone."

"I… I trust you. All of you, to know what's right and wrong," said Mrs. Weasley. "But you're so young, still!"

"It's like Harry said, Mum," said Ginny. "Voldemort's not going to wait for anyone."

There was another long silence. Harry wanted to speak, but he didn't know what to say to take the look of complete terror and sadness off of Mrs. Weasley's face. He felt horrible as he looked into the face of Ron's mother-- the woman whom Harry had, for years, regarded as something like a mother. He didn't want to put her through all the worry that he could tell she would endure, but what other choice did he have?

"You three aren't children anymore." said Mrs. Weasley finally. "And I know I can't stop you. You're old enough to make your own decisions. I trust you to do that, even… even if it means you have to leave.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry when no one else said anything. Mrs. Weasley looked at him through red eyes. Then, without warning, she ran at him and Harry was soon locked in her tight embrace.

"You take care of yourself, Harry." she said, tears now falling thickly down her face. "And Hermione." she said, bringing Hermione into the embrace, "And Ron." she held out her arm for Ron, who walked to her and allowed her to hug him as well.

The rest of the day was spent mostly together. It was hard to say goodbyes, Harry thought, to people who didn't think you were serious about leaving. True to his thoughts, Fred and George laughed when Harry told them they were leaving for a long time, but they were the only two besides Ginny that he dare tell he was leaving. He wanted to tell Mr. Weasley, but then he knew that the Order would get involved. It was hardest to say goodbye to Ginny, even through they both knew it had to come.

"You'll come back when you're done saving the world?" Ginny asked, laughing. It was nearing midnight and Harry, Ron and Hermione were packed and standing by the door. Though he was extremely nervous, Harry grinned.

"Yeah."

She eyed him with a sarcastically sharp look and said, "Promise?"

Harry laughed.

"I promise."

For a second they looked at each other. Then Ginny stood on tip-toe and kissed Harry on the cheek. She smiled, "I trust you." Harry's heart felt ripped out of his chest though he continued to smile. Hermione stepped in as Harry went back to stand next to Ron. She hugged Ginny and whispered, "You'll say goodbye to everyone for us, will you?"

"Yeah." said Ginny, "And don't worry; Crookshanks and Hedwig will be perfectly happy with Mum and Dad. But I'm a bit surprised Mum isn't here to say goodbye, though."

"She's probably worried that she'll try to stop us," said Hermione as Ron walked forward and pulled his sister into a one-armed hug.

"Take care of yourself," he said, "and have good year at Hogwarts, right?"

"It's going to be so weird there without you three to make it more interesting."

"Aaah, you've got Neville and Luna for that." said Ron reasonably. Everyone laughed. Hermione pulled out her wand and shrunk her trunk and Harry's and Ron's. They picked them up and pocketed them, looking out the window at the snow falling harshly and the wind rattling the door and rocking the walls. Harry felt a sudden rush of foreboding, his stomach turning and twisting into knots. As he peered out the door, he felt not like Harry, but like someone else. Someone whose life was more complicated. He felt that as soon as he walked out of the Burrow with Ron and Hermione, he would never be the same again. Ever.

He could feel Ron and Hermione's gazes on him. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. After a time, he let the breath out and opened his eyes. He turned to face his friends. "Okay. Let's go." Without another thought, he faced the door again, strode forward and grasped the doorknob. With a slight shove, the door flew open and Harry walked into the snow, which was knee-deep. He heard the door slam shut as Ron and Hermione came out. He turned to them.

"We have to go past the protection line!" Hermione yelled over the wind, pulling the hood of her cloak onto her head. Harry nodded and the three of them trudged through the snow. It didn't take long for Harry to begin to freeze again. His teeth chattered as he pulled his own cloak tighter around his body to try and warm him. Finally, they passed the protection line. One step outside of it, Harry stopped again.

"We're going to Apparate to Godric's Hollow!" he shouted. In the dark he saw Ron and Hermione nod in understanding. Without another word, Harry closed his eyes and thought about Godric's Hollow, how much he wanted and needed to go there. Then, he turned, just as Ron and Hermione did the same. The familiar pressure floated over his body and he found he couldn't breathe again. As soon as the pressure came to be too much, Harry felt cold wind hitting his body. He opened his eyes. It was still dark. He looked around and saw Ron and Hermione standing behind him, looking breathless, their breaths rising in a cloud of mist, just like his own.

"Is this Godric's Hollow?" Ron shouted. Harry shrugged and looked around. He didn't recognize the place at all, but he still felt a sort of connection to it nonetheless. His instincts told him that they were in Godric's Hollow.

Godric's Hollow was a small village with little houses built close together. The pathways were built with bricks and a large fountain was place in the middle of what looked like a town square. The water was frozen. Each house had it's own style fence and most of the lights were off. Only a few windows had light showing through them. The closest one was to Harry's left. He read a sign that was hanging by the gutter read 'The Roaring Lion' and it was swinging violently in the wind.

Turning to face Ron and Hermione, he jerked his head in the direction of the bar and the three of them began walking to the door. Once they stepped over the threshold, warmth swept over them. It was extremely loud in the bar and no one seemed to have noticed the new visitors' arrival, so Harry, Ron and Hermione walked to the bartender who stood behind the bar, filling up a mug of ale for a drunk customer. They waited patiently for him to collect his gold and he looked over at them. He jumped back in surprise at the sight of Harry.

"I'll be a Griffin's Beak!" he exclaimed. "Harry? Harry Potter!"

"Er-- yeah." said Harry, determined to keep eye contact with the long-bearded pub owner who looked somewhat familiar to Harry. Several people had heard the bartender and looked around as though they couldn't believe their ears. Others didn't even seem to notice and Harry could instantly pick out the wizards from the Muggles.

"Well what can I be getting' for ya?" the bartender said kindly. "Butterbeer? Firewhisky? 'Course, don't be sharing' wif them Muggles. Name's Miggs, by the way. So, what'll it be?"

"Nothing, thanks." said Harry.

"Oh, come now. You an' yer friends can have anyfink you want."

"We're a little tight on gold, sir." said Hermione shyly.

"Miggs, lass. An' it's on the house."

"Three butterbeers, then." said Ron quickly, looking hopefully at Miggs.

"Thee butterbeers it is. Oi!" he called behind him, through a little window. "Oppie! Three butterbeers on the double."

"Three butterbeers!" the man called Oppie yelled back at Miggs. The name Oppie stirred something in Harry's mind.

"I remember you!" he said. Miggs looked on the verge of being both scared and honored.

"Well, s'been 'bout sixteen years since I seen you last."

"No, I saw you a few weeks ago, you and Oppie. In London." said Harry. "Oppie said he'd heard something in that alley." Miggs suddenly looked as if he remembered too.

"That was you?" he asked, looking amazed. "Ya hear that, Oppie, you ain' crazy after all!"

"I'll drink ter that!" Oppie called, taking a swig of something alcoholic in a bottle on a shelf. "Three butterbeers." He handed three bottles of butterbeer to Harry and the other, who immediately took a drink. Harry's insides instantly warmed up and he grinned at Ron and Hermione.

"I remember yer Dad, Harry," said Miggs, leaning over and folding his arms on the counter, looking up at Harry, "Great man. Helped me pay off a loan I couldn't afford. An' Lily-- ye have her eyes, ye know-- yeah, she often took ter invitin' me over fer dinner. Great people." When Harry didn't answer to this, Miggs gave in a nervous look. "So… what're ye doin' here, in Godric's Hollow?"

Harry corked his butterbeer and looked at Miggs' smiling face. "I want to know if you can tell me where-- where my parents used to live." Miggs frowned and said nothing for a long while.

"Ye sure ye want ter know that?"

"Positive."

"Well… s'not a pretty sight, I'll warn ye-- still smoking green. Had to make up a cover story for the Muggles so they wouldn't get suspicious. But if ye want ter know, I'll tell ye."

"Cheers," said Harry.

Miggs nodded. "A'ight. Now, first, ye're going to wanna go left when you leave the pub. Go further down the road, up to the sign that says 'Hatter's Lane.' Turn left again. Jus' go strait until ye see the glowing green house. Can't miss it; s' the only house that glows green."

"Thanks." said Harry, draining his Butterbeer.

"We really appreciate this, Miggs." Hermione said to the bartender. "For the drinks and the directions. But we should go."

Miggs' eyes crinkled as he smiled at Hermione.

"S'no problem, Lassie." he answered. Harry, Ron and Hermione stood up and began walking to the door. Behind them, they heard Miggs shout one last thing before the door closed, "Ye take care of yerselves, ye hear?"

Before they could answer, the door closed and they were once again thrust into the freezing cold weather and darkness. Harry pulled out his wand and thought '_Lumos_'. His wand tip ignited. Instantly, Harry began walking left, Ron and Hermione following him. They passed the fountain which, up close, Harry could see was a rearing lion. The water coming out of the mouth was completely frozen. As Harry passed four-ways on the brick road, he tried to read what was written on various signs to see if they might be getting close. Once or twice he had to unfreeze the sign just to be able to read it. Finally, at a fork, he read the wooden sign, Hatter's Lane. He turned to look at Ron and Hermione and jerked his head in the direction they had to go.

As they passed house after house, Harry looked left and right for any house that might be letting off green smoke. Most houses' lights were off, save a few whose porch lights so someone who was out could see their way back. Snow began falling harder and Harry, Ron and Hermione pulled the hoods of their cloaks up. Harry noticed that they all looked extremely aged as the white snow stuck to their hair and eyebrows.

"Harry," said Hermione. Harry looked around at her and she pointed several houses ahead on the right. Swiveling around in the knee-deep snow, Harry almost lost his footing, but was able to keep upright as he attempted to see through the sheet of snow. He let out a loud gasp that disappeared in the wind.

Where he was expecting a house to be standing, he only saw a huge mound of splintered wood. Green vapors were leaking up through the boards and broken glass and disappearing in the air. But what was most intriguing about the house was that it was not covered in snow. Neither was the grass on any of the property. Both houses on either side of the wreck that had once been Harry's home were covered in feet of snow, but not a single flake touched the lawn of his parents' house. Harry remembered Lupin telling him that no one had been on the property since Hagrid sixteen years ago. Subconsciously, he stuck his hand in his pocket and closed his numb fingers around his father's wand.

"What's it mean, that snow isn't on the property?" Ron yelled over the wind.

"No one's allowed! Not since the night my parents' died!" Harry answered, his voice breaking as he strained to speak louder than the wind howled.

"What do we do, then?" Ron yelled. Harry didn't answer. Instead, he turned back to face the wreckage. The voice in his head told him to step forward, onto the property. He couldn't place where this whim came from, but somehow, he knew that things would work out if he stepped forward. Lifting his soaking wet foot, he put it forward and stepped on the green snow-lacking grass. He half expected to be thrown off the property and closed his eyes, preparing to feel his feet lift of the ground. When nothing happened, his eyes snapped open again.

The air surrounding the wreckage began churning and folding over itself, gathering into a shapeless form before Harry. The air turned pearly white and the mass began defining shape. A ghost-like phoenix floated in front of Harry without flapping its wings. It merely watched him and he returned it's gaze, understanding immediately. Around them, snow began drifting onto the clean lawn. With a loud and beautiful cry, the phoenix vanished in a flash.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione.

"C'mon, you can come now." he told them. Tentatively, they stepped on the grass. When they were not sprung from the ground, they took another step and another until they were on either side of Harry.

"What was that about?" Ron asked. "That phoenix?"

"It was Dumbledore. No," said Harry, catching the startled look on Hermione's face, "not Dumbledore himself. But his protection. I think he put his protection over the house until I came back." He began walking toward the wreckage. "Strange, though…"

"What's strange?" Hermione asked.

"I've-- well… I've never felt… more at home." said Harry, realizing how weird it sounded to say so. Why did he feel more at home here, at this ruined and splintered house, than at Hogwarts which was whole and safe?

"You're attached to this house. This place. It's like you said-- for you, it began here. All of it." Hermione explained as though she had just read his mind.

"But why did Dumbledore want to protect this place for Harry?" asked Ron, eyeing the green smoke.

"Look," said Harry, pointing to the ground. In front of them lay several burnt books and a silver instrument. Harry scooped them up, giving them all a quick look before slipping them in his pockets. "I'm not stealing. It's my stuff now, isn't it?" he said to Hermione as she gave him a reproachful look.

"Oh, I suppose so."

"Well it is," said Harry, grabbing a piece of ripped parchment with scribbles and drawings in slanted handwriting. He stuffed it into his pocket and reached down for more objects, attempting to grab as much as he could before it became covered in the snow that was beginning to fall more thickly over the house. "C'mon, help. Just grab whatever you can."

"D'you want to check under the boards?" Ron asked. Harry surveyed the giant pile of snapped wood before him. He had a burning desire to comb over every inch of the property, but he knew if they decided to stay that long, they'd freeze to death. Scowling at the little voice of truth in his head, he looked at Ron.

"No. Just get the stuff scattered on the lawn." he demonstrated by picking up more pieces of parchment written in the same handwriting as the first piece of parchment. Ron nodded and walked off.

"Look, Harry!" said Hermione, holding up a small book. "_Lily's Journal_. That's what it says!"

"Cool," said Harry, "pocket it, will you?"

"This must've been your dad's Harry," said Ron excitedly from Harry's other side. He looked over and saw a dictionary-sized book in Ron's hand with the title _Advanced_ _Quidditch Moves, Volume I_. "And Volumes two and three are here as well."

Harry grinned and looked back down at his own area, which was littered with papers and little silver and bronze objects, some still whirring excitedly.

"Oh, _wow_!" moaned Hermione longingly. "_Magic for the Talented: Spells, Charms, Hexes and Potions_!" She opened the cover of a book larger than all three volumes of _Advanced Quidditch Moves_ put together. "Copyright seventeen seventy-seven! This is an old book-- I'll bet you couldn't find this at Flourish and Blotts!"

"Great bedtime story for you, then," said Ron, surveying a gold-plated eyeglass interestedly before stuffing it into his already full pockets. Hermione turned red and tucked the large book under her arm, making sure to keep it out of the snow. Harry was just in the middle of wiping the frames of several family pictures when he heard something.

"Hey! You kids! You'd better not be nicking the Potter's things!"

Harry turned around to face an old, dumpy woman who twitched nervously, her frail gray hair blowing stiffly in the wind. She had thick, plastic-rimmed glasses that were attached to a beaded string that was draped around her neck so she wouldn't lose them easily. As soon as she caught sight of Harry, holding the portraits in his arms and her pale eyes widened as she screamed.

"No! It-- it can't be. I'm dreaming! James… James Potter!"

OoOoOoO

I am SO sorry for how long it took to post this chapter! I've been extremely busy. I haven't had any time whatsoever to type ANY of this story AT ALL! This means that it may take a while for the next chapter to come up as well, seeing as I don't think I finished it quite yet. It's in the process. So thanks for waiting and I hope I haven't warded you all away! Luv much!

I took the W.O.M.B.A.T. test on J.K. Rowling's official site (Wizards' Ordinary Magic and Basic Aptitude Test). She graded it and I got an Acceptable, which, you should all know, is PASSING! It's not great, but I did pass, so there! And I didn't get Troll. Hooray for me!

Don't forget to review!

Luv much!

Legolas-gurl88

LG

**Next chapter:** Harry learns more about this mysterious woman's past.


	10. Stella Humfrey

**Title: **Harry Potter and the Shattered Soul

**Author: **Legolas-gurl88

**Disclaimer: **Jo's, not mine…

OoOoOoO

**10. Stella Humfrey**

"What?" said Harry, staring at the old woman bemusedly. "No. I'm not James."

"Well, you look a powerful lot like him, you do!" said the old woman, putting her twitching hands on her squat hips. "If you're not James, then who are you?"

"I'm Harry," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "James's son."

The old woman seemed completely clueless for a moment as she looked at Ron and Hermione, who were slowly advancing behind Harry, their arms full of trinkets. Finally, the old woman looked back at Harry as though she recognized him.

"Harry! Oh, dear Harry! You were a baby when I last saw you! I thought you'd died when this happened," she indicated to the smoking green house. However, she continued to look fondly at Harry. "You look just like your father, you do! It's no wonder I mistook you for him. Come closer, I want to see you more properly."

Deciding this had gone a bit too far, Harry stayed where he was. "Er-- I 'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. I'm Stella Humfrey. Pleased to meet you-- or see you again, as it were."

How d'you know my parents?"

"I was their neighbor. Still am, though I'm sorry that they're not here anymore to enjoy it."

"Are you--" Harry cut off. He had almost asked 'Are you a witch?' but remembered just in time that she could well be a Muggle as well. "Are you a Muggle?"

Stella smiled. "Yes, I'm a Muggle. But my ex-husband and son were both wizards. They're dead, though. Been dead for years."

"I'm sorry," said Harry.

"I'm sorry too. Well… for my son, at least. My good-for-nothing ex-husband died when he drank too much Firewhisky and decided it was smart to ride a manticore. Not seen him since. But my son on the other hand died bravely in combat."

She looked as if her thoughts had wandered off for a moment, but she came too seconds later. She shivered.

"What're we all standing outside in the cold for?" she said. "You and your charming friends are welcome to come to my house for tea and biscuits if you trust me."

Harry looked around at Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked slightly doubtful, but thankful for getting a chance to get out of the snow. Ron looked excited for a chance at food.

"Yeah, thanks." said Harry to Stella. "That'll be great."

"Then come on, let's go." said Stella. Harry turned back for one last look at his parent's house-- his first home-- before following Stella, Ron and Hermione, the last two of which were laden with all of his parent's things.

Stella led them down the sidewalk to the house on the left of Harry's house. The lawn was covered in snow and ice and the house itself looked as if it might be made of gingerbread. The walls were brown and the roof was coated with smooth, untouched snow. Stella peered around at the three teenagers before setting off up the pathway to her door and ushering them inside.

The entry room was very dark, Harry could hardly see where he was going. He ran strait into a small table holding an ancient-looking vase. It fell off the table and shattered on the ground.

"I'm sorry," he said as he pulled out his wand and repaired the mess.

"It's quite alright, Harry, dear. It was my fault-- stupid lights… power's out in the whole house. No matter, just keep walking. And turn into this room." Stella came ahead of Harry and allowed him to follow her into a room that was dimly lit by an old oil lantern.

"Sit anywhere you want." said Stella. "I'll go put the tea on and be right back."

As Stella left the room, Harry sat down in a very soft, yet tattered armchair that reclined the moment he sat. Harry could have sworn he heard the armchair sigh. Meanwhile, Ron and Hermione sat on an ugly yellowish two-person couch beside Harry's chair. They were silent for several minutes, listening to Stella bustle around her kitchen.

"What time is it?" Harry asked the others. His voice sounded oddly muted in the stuffy old room.

"There's an old chime clock in that corner, do you see?" said Hermione, "It says it's a little after two."

"What d'you reckon about that woman?" Ron asked, "Stella?"

"She seems nice enough." said Hermione slowly, setting down all the things in her arms.

"Yeah," said Harry, "and she said she knew my mum and dad." He looked at his friends and asked in a voice that he hoped was more casual that hopeful. "D'you think that's true?"

"I don't see why it shouldn't be," answered Hermione, "I mean, she is living right next door."

"Maybe she might have an idea about where we should go next." said Ron.

"Yes, I--" said Hermione, but she was broken off as Stella came in, carrying four cups of tea and a small plate of cookies on top of something that looked like an album.

"Alright, tea's here." she said, allowing Harry to take the first cup. "And help yourselves to the biscuits. I'm sorry, but I forgot to ask you your names," she said, offering Ron and Hermione each a cup.

"I'm Hermione," said Hermione, taking a few biscuits and sipping at her tea.

"Ron," said Ron as he grabbed the teacup and several more cookies than Hermione had.

"Ron and Hermione," recited Stella. "Lovely names. I see you've taken an interest in that chair, Harry."

"Er--" said Harry, looking down at the chair that was now quivering.

"My ex-husband's," Stella said, "I always hated it, but when he died, it was in his will that I have it. Some day I'll see if I can find a wizard shop to sell it at, but until then, I can't give it to any Muggle shops."

Harry didn't say anything. Stella sat on the arm of Ron and Hermione's couch, just to the right of Harry. She took her tea and handed him the album.

"I found this the other day when I was cleaning. I took so many pictures with your parents."

Harry opened the book to find a still picture of his parents in front of their house.

"Weren't they a lovely couple? That was when they were just married and moved in." Stella interjected. "This next one--" she turned the page, "--wizard photo, my ex-husband had it made. Yes, see there? That was when Lily was about five months along in her pregnancy. They were so excited to have you."

Harry stared down at his mother, whose belly was expanded greatly. She smiled up at him before the page was turned to another moving picture of his father holding a broomstick in his hand with his other hand on his hip.

"Your father, Harry, was so into that game-- Quidditch, that's the name. He had already bought you a small broomstick of your own to train you early."

Harry couldn't help but smile at this.

"Yes, that picture was the last one taken of your family before you were born. Turn the page."

Harry obeyed and turned to see the next picture-- an unmoving one-- of his mother lying in bed looking immensely tired. Harry's dad was sitting beside her. Wrapped in Lily's arms was a newly born baby covered in blankets that Harry knew to be himself.

"That was about an hour after you were born. You were just about the sweetest thing I'd ever seen. Wasn't he sweet, you two?" she asked Ron and Hermione, ripping the album out of Harry's hands to show them the picture.

"Adorable," said Ron, grinning, his voice shaking with laughter.

"Yes, well," Stella sighed, turning a few more pages where Harry saw flashes of himself with Lily, or James, or both. Occasionally, he saw himself and Sirius.

"Wait," he said, reaching out a hand to catch one of the pages. He turned it over and found a picture of himself as a baby, being held by Peter Pettigrew. "When was this taken?"

Stella smiled. "That was taken about a month before your parent's deaths. Do you recognize him?"

"Yeah," breathed Harry. Ron and Hermione leaned forward to see the picture and they both gasped. "That's Wormtail."

"Well, that's what your father called him. I 've always wondered where they came up with those mad nicknames." said Stella. "Remus Lupin was 'Moony'. And that no-good Black was 'Padfoot'. I heard he's dead."

"Yeah… yeah, he's dead." said Harry not taking his eyes off of the picture.

"Serves him right!" Stella said, suddenly sounding a bit hysterical. "After what he did to my poor son!"

"What?" said Harry sharply, taking his eyes off the photo and looking directly at Stella. "Sirius… what did he do to your son?"

"He killed him!" cried Stella. "That-- that _man_… killed my only son! He killed him along with twelve Muggles! Must've been only an hour after your parents died, Harry."

It was completely silent for a long moment as Harry, Ron and Hermione all gaped at Stella who was sniffling uncontrollably. They didn't notice her, because at that moment, they were each putting two and two together.

"Pettigrew?" Harry whispered breathlessly. "Your-- your son is _Pettigrew?_"

"Y-yes. Didn't you know?"

"I-- no." said Harry, even more quietly.

"But-- but Stella," said Hermione, "how could Pettigrew be your son if your last name is Humfrey?"

"My last name _used_ to be Pettigrew," Stella explained quite calmly, though her sniffs were growing louder. "But when I divorced Richard-- my ex-husband-- I took back my maiden name. Peter, of course, kept his father's name. Excuse me… I'm going to get more tea."

She left looking rather shaky. Harry looked around at Ron and Hermione, who looked as shocked as Harry felt. There was another bought of silence that lasted for several minutes as Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked at each other.

"What do we tell her?" Hermione spoke first in a low whisper.

"I think we should tell her about Wormtail-- I'd want to know if it were me." said Harry.

"Yeah, that'll be nice," said Ron sardonically, "Your son's alive, but he's working for the evilest wizard in the world right now. He didn't die bravely, he lived as my rat for twelve years before he was found out. And, to top it all off, he was an unregistered Animagus."

Hermione bit her lip.

"I think it's best if she know the truth. It's like Harry said; if it was my son, I'd want to know."

"Know what, dear?" Stella said, entering the room with another steaming cup of coffee. She looked slightly pale in the feeble light the oil lamp gave, but looked a little less shaky.

"I-- well… erm…" said Hermione. She swallowed and looked at Harry pleadingly. He sighed.

"We have something to tell you, Stella," said Harry, setting his teacup down and sitting up slightly in the shivering armchair. He waited for Stella to give some response… perhaps an "alright" or a "tell me what?", but she said nothing. She seemed to be waiting bated breath, almost as if she knew what Harry was going to say. He could feel her eyes on him. "Wormtail-- er-- Pettigrew… Peter." he continued when Stella still remained quiet, "He's not dead."

"Excuse me?" Stella leaning in, clearly thinking that she had misunderstood Harry.

"He's not dead." said Harry.

Stella seemed to be growing paler by the second. She looked at her lap and asked, "What makes you say such a thing?"

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. They merely nodded.

"When I was thirteen-- you remember Sirius Black escaping?"

"Naturally."

"Well… he lured me, Ron and Hermione away from Hogwarts to get to Ron's rat, Scabbers. Then Remus Lupin turned up after a while and he and Sirius said that Scabbers was an Animagus-- a wizard that can turn into an animal--" Harry explained when he saw Stella's confused look. "--anyway… they said their was a spell for changing Animagi back into their human form and they performed it on Scabbers."

"And what does this have to do with my Peter?" Stella said, wide-eyed, but Harry thought he could see that she was starting to understand where this conversation was leading to and was dreading the answer.

"Scabbers _was_ Pettigrew." said Ron. "That's why he was named Wormtail."

"But-- but… Peter-- _my_ Peter?" Stella said incredulously, "What would he be doing hiding as a rat-- if he really _could _turn into a rat, that is-- for twelve years?"

"Because _he_ betrayed my parents, not Sirius. Sirius was innocent the whole time." said Harry.

"Alright… well… if Peter did do all these things, then where is he now?"

Harry traded glances with Ron.

"He's with Voldemort." said Hermione quietly when Harry didn't answer. Stella looked angry.

"What do you mean 'he's with Voldemort'?"

"…he rejoined Voldemort… he helped him come back." said Harry even quieter than Hermione. "I saw him that night-- that night when Voldemort returned. He made this potion with Voldemort's dad's bone, my blood and his own hand. It brought Voldemort back."

"This-- this has to be a joke." Stella said. "They gave me Peter's finger-- in a box."

"He cut it off." explained Ron. "That way it looked as if Sirius'd finished him off. Maybe made him explode or something."

"Stella…" said Hermione, putting her hand gently on Stella's shoulder, "We're not making this up. We just thought you'd want to know. And we're really, _really _sorry."

There was a sudden crash outside and Harry and the others peered over their shoulders out the window where the light from the oil lamp was reflecting. They couldn't see out the window; it was too dark outside.

"G-goodness," said Stella, getting up slowly, "What on earth was that?"

"I dunno," said Harry, getting out of the quivering chair. He pressed his face up against the windowpane, trying desperately to see outside. Outside the door was a dark, cloaked figure.

"Oh no," Harry groaned. Ron and Hermione got up and peered outside too.

"That's not the Death Eater?" Hermione asked.

"Looks like it," said Ron.

"Oh no," Hermione whimpered, her hand to her mouth. "Oh no, oh no, oh no…"

"Stella," said Harry, jumping away from the window. "Is there a back way out?"

"Why?" Stella asked, "Who is it?"

"He's been following me for a couple months." said Harry. "A Death Eater. One of Voldemort's followers."

"Is he dangerous?" Stella asked.

"Yeah. He tried to put the Cruciatus Curse on me and Ron's dad and brother."

"I've heard of the Cruciatus Curse," Stella said quietly. She looked at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You three need to get out of here right away. Go into the kitchen. There's a door that leads into the backyard. Jump the fence. You'll be on Sword Street. Go left. It'll lead you away from here. Just follow the road."

"What about you?" Hermione asked, watching Stella. She stood up.

"I'm old. I've lived my life. You three are young still, and have a large life to lead."

"But--" said Harry.

"Go. I'll be fine. All I can say is thank you for giving the news of my son. Go."

"But--" said Ron.

"_Go_!" hissed Stella just as the front door burst open. Harry, Ron and Hermione bolted, Stella following at their heels. When they exited the room, they looked at the Entrance and saw the Death Eater standing there, shivering from the snow and cold wind outside. He and Harry made eye contact just as the Death Eater lifted his wand.

"_Crucio_!" he shrieked. Harry blocked his eyes as the jet of light headed in his direction. However, he felt no pain. Instead, he heard the screams of Stella who had jumped in the way of the spell.

"No!" said Harry, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the Death Eater. "_Stupefy_!"

The Death Eater deflected the spell and sent it straight back at Harry who ducked. He aimed another spell at the Death Eater, but that, too was repelled.

"Harry!" he heard Hermione shriek from the kitchen entrance. She and Ron had already begun to run. "Come on, hurry!"

"What about Stella?" he shouted back, staring at the old woman twitching on the floor.

"She told us to leave! We've got to, Harry!"

Harry aimed one more spell at the Death Eater who deflected it, giving Harry time to scramble over to Hermione and Ron who were waiting at the door.

"Let's--" he began to say, when he felt a burst of pain hit his body from behind. He fell to the floor, screaming. His body contorted and he heard Ron and Hermione calling his name.

Then it was over. Harry got on his hands and knees and looked over at the Death Eater. Ron was dueling him while Hermione was kneeled next to Harry.

"Are you alright?" she asked. She grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet. Stella was still on the floor, watching as Ron and the Death Eater battled around her. Harry watched them fight as well, waiting for the Death Eater get into the perfect position. Finally, when his back faced Harry, Harry sent a Stunning Spell his way. The Death Eater howled and keeled over, landing on top of Stella, who pushed him away from her as if he were a rotten fungi.

"Nice shot, Harry!" Ron panted, his hands on his knees.

"Are you alright, Stella?" Harry asked, walking shakily over to her and pulling her to her feet.

"I am now. Thank you." Stella looked down at the Death Eater lying on her floor. "What should we do with him?"

"I dunno. I'd like to see who he his first." answered Harry, kneeling down next to the thin Death Eater.

"He's the same one, then?" Ron asked, kneeling down next to Harry and Hermione followed suit.

"Yeah. I'm almost sure he is."

"Let's see the git, then."

Harry placed his hands on either side of the white mask and lifted it. Just as he had done last time he was caught, the Death Eater began to glow, then disappeared. However, his mask remained in Harry's hands.

OoOoOoO

This chapter is shorter than it would have been initially, but I cut it down so I could actually post it. It wasn't finished yet. I know, that sucks, but I had to! Sorry! It's been a while since I've posted and I hope y'all haven't forgotten me! I've just been really busy! Especially writing my own story, which I'm hoping to publish if it's good enough!

I don't know when the next chapter will be up because I haven't written it yet. Summer vacation is coming soon, so hopefully, I'll gather some time from that!

Also, to those whom I've been in contact with for a while… if you have a Myspace, I do as well and I would love to become your friend! No pressure if you don't want me and don't worry, I'm not a 38 year old man living with his mom. I'm a teenager! But just so you know, if you send me a friend request, I'll probably deny it unless you identify yourself by sending me a message first. I always check messages before friend requests. So send me a message announcing that you've sent me a friend request and let me know your pen name on But I'm looking forward to contacting a lot of you with whom I've known way back to when I was writing 'Staff of Merlin'! My Myspace is the thing under 'Website' at the top.

MBBIYD (May Broomsticks Be In Your Dreams)

Luv,

Legolas-gurl88


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